Raise head
Pull down and
Strike - THUMP!
A steady rhythm
Each swing of the hammer
One fluid movement
The tools
Extensions of the bodies
The bodies
A collective machine
Weight and force spiral in, while
A trail of wind ripples out
It is like music, or
A blooming flower
The way work should be
Marvelous. I worked in touring circus for more than three decades. Many times (too many times!), the machines that drove stakes for the various tents and rigging anchors would break down, leaving we poor circus workers to grab the hammers and drive wooden or steel stakes--sometimes more than a hundred--in hard dirt or through pavement. There was no romance when we were at it, with burning forearms and fingers screaming from the grip on the handle. Yet, there was a satisfaction to it, when the rhythm was found and the hammers dropped in ringing cadence. I know of the work of Sybil Andrews, but who wrote the poem?
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