William A Gardner
10
July
2024
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An Old Hammer by the Road
I spied a hammer by the road
With handle blue like sacred woad
All covered in dirt and greenish mould
It must be lost and very old
Upon the handle was a name
Too worn to know the maker's fame
I wonder what a life it had
When making things both good and bad
So long ago by workman's hand
Twas used to make things strong and grand
Perhaps a castle tall and hale
To repel dragons without fail
Perhaps a chisel broad and sharp
To build a bedstead or a harp
Behold a cradle filled with love
Engraved upon its end a dove
But surely I will never know
What objects felt its ringing blow
A tool it is and tools we use
To build this world oh happy muse
Notes and References
During our writers' retreat, Randall noticed a lost hammer by the road while enjoying a walk. He brought it back and challenged us to write something about it. This poem was written from his viewpoint.
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