Wheelwrights.
The
Smiths lowered the glowing rim,
onto
the spoked wooden wheel,
and
with water baptised a union:
unblessed
by clergy.
Spoke-shaven
spring felled ash shafts,
summer
cured,
pole-balanced
by saddle chains.
A
blue orange Donkey Cart,
barrel
raised on naked axles:
wheel
bound.
Two
men offer wheels to greased hubs,
pinned:
they
spin true.
The
cart backed into the shed,
raised
shafts:
skylarking
white clouds.
Donkey
Donkey
shakes a lantern jaw,
avoiding
the harness,
swerves,
stomps, crushing my foot.
I
scrunch toes back
into
boot-heel: pained.
*
Harnessed,
blinkered, breeched, collared:
cart
saddled.
He
waits impatiently.
The
dawn drizzle discourages him:
work
beckons.
*
Beyond
the lane, bog beacons:
home-bound
turf Clamps.
Farther
: bog cotton sentinels,
embraced,
dancing, gliding,
coupled
with Dust Devils.
*
Turf,
hand tossed,
creeled,
imprisoned.
Full
cart swaying.
Donkey
head down, tired.
Teenager
as well,
both
content
with
their bog-air appetite.
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