S A W D U S T
or so we had been told.
All we kids could say for sure
was that Jack was very old.
When we followed the sounds
of hammer and saw,
old Jack could always be found,
His work bench holding scraps of wood,
sawdust sifting to the ground.
He never scowled or raised his voice
or chased a neighbor kid away,
but welcomed us as worthy fans
just stopping in to watch that day.
Whether or not a carpenter true,
it's not for me to know or say
but I'll tell you this, a sawdust pile
still warms my heart in a neighborly way.
[ by: Connie Faust, Copyright © 2009 (firstname.lastname@example.org) -- submitted by: Connie Faust ]
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