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A Love Song: The Drawing Knife Speaks to Grandfather RE: Psalm 36 "... thou givest them drink from the river of thy delights." (Psalm 36:8, RSV) I bite when your hands are too rough, and your hands are rough from hoe handle and axe haft, I handle, from hefting sawmill boards and fieldstones. when you touch me smoothly, with the long stroke, the gentle pull, by curling away golden shavings, by inviting you with spicy smells of wood. I fashion your mind's eye, your heart's hope, in the hushed world of morning, by the light of the workshop doorway, sun falling on your brown arms, my bright blade. We wed moments to hours, perspiration to vision, a chair slat, a table leg, a cradle-- warmth of a newborn from well-aged stock, wood, and man, and tool. --Charles A. Swanson
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Jan 8, 2005
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