There are lives inside this box
\nof little drawers,
\nholding paper and coins
\non their felt bottoms.
\nLincoln head pennies scattered
\nlike planets against a green sky,
\nwheat heads on their backs.<\/p>\n
The drawers are flawless,
\nevery dimension of the box
\nbuilt by a master artisan,
\na toolmaker who painted
\nportraits of ships,
\na dreamer who took pine boards,
\nlike earth fashioning flowers,
\nand built a box for letters,
\nschool reports,
\nthe notice of his son\u2019s death in battle.
\nOdd receipts of payment,
\nlittle diaries almost empty
\nexcept for their first fragile papers,
\nthen abandoned.<\/p>\n
I could write a long, long story
\nabout these contents,
\nsocial security numbers,
\nletters from four sons,
\nall safe inside the chest.
\nAnd a man\u2019s soul finding faith,
\nsalvation in the relief of tools
\nand smell of pine,
\nthe cutting and sanding of wood,
\nproof that he lived,
\nloved what he knew,
\nassuring me that the divine
\nis real,
\nand a carpenter.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There are lives inside this box of little drawers, holding paper and coins on their felt bottoms. Lincoln head pennies scattered like planets against a…<\/p>\n