...He knew how it could rot,
Be warped or broken, but revered it
For what it might become. He had seen it turn
Under his hands from its raw nature
To something longer lasting and man-made,
Made beautiful by chisel and adze and plane,
By surrender under the iron teeth
Of the saw and the slamming down
Of the hammer, again and again
Driving the nails home. He knew enough
To rest at the end of days against a tree...

The Son of a Carpenter

David Waggoner
Verse Daily