Iron lies softening in the withering
heat, nesting in coals
and awaiting with patience (or not so much)
that signal shade, the
brightness that ventures just shy of raw sunlight
but only appears
in the oak-shuttered shade of the smithy.
My hammer falls to
no shimmering, sword-movie shower of sparks,
but a satisfied
if strangely muted thud, which means “yes” in the
language of iron.
heat, nesting in coals
and awaiting with patience (or not so much)
that signal shade, the
brightness that ventures just shy of raw sunlight
but only appears
in the oak-shuttered shade of the smithy.
My hammer falls to
no shimmering, sword-movie shower of sparks,
but a satisfied
if strangely muted thud, which means “yes” in the
language of iron.
-
Unsu...
Re: Therapy
Sat, January 12, 2008 - 2:24 AMBrennan, nice imagery, I had a lot to do with a smith many years ago, learnt how to hot shoe horses and temper tools.
iron works best as straw colour
in the forge,
fat sparks slop from the slow metal,
smithy's arms are taught sinew strong
hammer poised
makes anvil
sing its song
