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The Rays of a Single Joy
As in a confession – the whole day on my knees
not talking to the priest, but cutting the lumber for
the basement ceiling –
making a wooden bed/frame for the sheets of the sheetrock
which will hang in the air as an outstretched white
blanket in the pool of the fluorescent flickering lights,
becoming the long and wide, perfectly flat, basement ceiling;
and staying there, looking down from this moment on to, maybe,
one hundred years away?
My 2-year old grandson exchanges his toy-saw
for my real hand-saw and "cuts" the door frame
out of an early trade’s curiosity – while the
sun’s ray sneaks into the basement behind our backs,
and like a flash light follows his hand.
A borrowed voice in me hums through the clicks of
the finished nails: Be joyful … be joyful … immerse the moment!
My back aches in the constant circle of the pain,
as a forgetful bird trying to locate her misplaced nest.
My grandson’s attitude is bent on learning the
carpenter’s trade before his ABC - “zeem-zooom” the hand saw
sings faintly in his left hand …
My head swims in the purple pride watching him,
while he flourishes our mutual moment speaking in his "Chinese".
An adventurous “zoom” off the passing car flew in
through the open, brand new Hopper window,
my grandson reacts to it with his quick verbal impression: "Auto!"
I
side-step his working corner with a deep smile,
making some room for my eyes’ current of happiness;
forgetting my deep-seeded, always angry, back pain,
for the whole duration of my grandson’s presence.
Founder of...
Bill Ray
Buy This at Allposters.com
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