I am sitting on the steps of a small porch
Of a small cabin tucked into the corner
Of a big backyard in an old town in South Carolina.
Coffee in hand on the last day in November,
I am taking a break in the slanting sun,
Enjoying the warmth and the quiet
That comes in between the phases oF busy-ness
That pulse the life of towns and people.
I have been helping my second oldest son
Turn an unfinished shed into something like a home.
Adding to the work he and his sons have already done,
We have nailed in tongue and groove pine
On one side and one end,
Lined other walls with pre-painted shiplap,
And cut in two windows up high in the gables.
I have enjoyed work such as this
Ever since I was in high school,
Working with my own father and learning
The beginnings of building things from him.
I have taught Sam some of what he knows
But most has come from his own showings.
Both pride and pleasure are bound up
In watching him measure and cut,
Laying out the lengths of boards,
Notching around outlets and windows,
Seeing the plans grow into shape
And ideas take on nails and splinters.
Winter is coming
When low temps and bitter winds
Will send their testings,
Finding the faults and vesting the cracks
Between what was built solid
And what may be found lacking.
He gets back from a supply run
And we sit together in this warm sun,
Resting for the work that is to come
And grateful for all that we have done.
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