The light through the thick of grey -
merely a sliver of sky.
No sunshine just an amber glow,
a crack in the clouds.
A constant rustle of trees limbs
dance to December tunes.
Tracks through the clean white snow
lead to a lean-to shop just off the garage.
A thin line of smoke trails off into the wood.
Inside a man in blue coveralls and suede work boots stands next to his work bench.
Gloved hands turn the wooden lever
on the vice until a chair is held tight.
The white dowel carefully put back in place,
fastened with a screw, so that it is better than new. Carefully the man releases the tension, goes to the stove and smothers the fire.
Leaving the workshop, he creates a new trail
back to the farm house.
The rocker is the focus of the bright blue eyes
peering through the window.
As the man and chair nears the house,
the door flies open and a towheaded boy
runs out in his stocking feet and pajamas.
“Papa, you fixed it!” He cries.
The last glint of light fades. The porchlight invites the two
back into the folds of the warm home.