Nailed

Written by: Debbie Guzzi

The sun rose timidly leaving the nights chill to crisp the morning air.
Dew dampened the foot high grass, sparkling a field of diamonds brightly glowing.
As the tea kettle whistles warning, steam rises and the kitchen clinks its china cups,
the men come with a small chortling roar of red trucks, firemen off duty.
Old trucks repurposed to a new use, the building up and not the burning down.
Douglas fir lay stacked on the gravel drive at the ready. 
With sledge hammer and saw, they came, ripping out and pounding in
new floor boards for the monk gray porch with its ivory Adirondack chairs.
Peaceably the chairs wait, sidelined for the day as work progressed.
One board after another is first driven into its appropriate groove
with a bang, bang, bang, and nailed with a thop, thop of the mechanized nail gun.
The music of man, the smell of saw dust, the buzzzzzzz
of the circular saw, surely there are few better ways to fill
a sunny day that rebirthing an old gray porch.