MY HAMMER

There it is tucked away behind a chair
with its handle visible –
so visible to me, rising out of a modest tool box
that I fashioned many years ago.

When did I start hammering? I sometimes wonder

Perhaps I was a little kid with a wooden hammer –
banging on my blocks.

At some point beyond my memory’s reach
I found the usefulness of nails
becoming somewhat skilled at driving them –
feeling in my arm a satisfaction
that comes to those whose muscles are properly employed.

Pliers and screwdrivers and drills might do the same
but hammers are most likely the first to gain such pleasure.

Now the need to bang and pound at nails is gone.

But I appreciate reminders that come to me
whenever I walk by what used to be so useful.

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