This poem was recently revised, and because it never appeared on the blog, it has been re-posted out of chronological order. 

Stone Wall

June 2 2004

This wall was built

from the ground up.

A taciturn man, who worked by touch,

piling stones, one by one

without mortar;

locked-in

snug as nesting dolls.

Strong and level and plumb,

his judgment, infallible.

The way it hugs the land

subsides with the soil.

Withstands flash flood and frost heave,

the succession of years

that would crack mortar

topple stone.

In the fullness of time

the sod will swallow scattered rocks

the fallow land erode.

But not this sturdy wall.

By hand,

large, powerful, thickly calloused

with veins like gnarled rope.

Which is all anyone might hope for,

to make something that lasts.

How a humble man

becomes immortal.