By Touch and Sight

Grampa Durell worked by touch and sight.
A carpenter, he knew each wood’s hue and grain.
He measured close so things would come out right.

To mark each piece, each board’s width and height,
He used a fold-up, bass-wood rule; took pains
To saw, fit, join, and sand by touch and sight.

His tools survive: hand drills that curl and bite
Into the wood—chisels, squares and planes
That seem today to fit my hands just right.

So, too, his gifts: tables, dressers, joints still tight,
A pine doll cradle with a cherry stain,
A great granddaughter’s now, for touch and sight.

In the Spanish-American War he missed the fight,
Got dysentery and couldn’t avenge the Maine.
But things have a way of turning out all right.

We keep his lieutenant’s sword, the blade still bright,
But use his carpenter’s rule again and again,
Reminding us to learn by touch and sight,
Measuring well so all will come out right.

Note: I wrote this villanelle about Becky’s grandfather, a carpenter in Lowell. I knew him only through family stories and from handling his old tools “that seem today to fit my hands just right.” Villanelles are fun to write, but they ain’t easy. The most famous one is, perhaps, Dylan Thomas’ “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night.”

One of my favorites is Theodore Roethke’s “The Waking.” Look it up. It’s a wonderful exploration of consciousness and the interplay of feeling/thinking, motion/stillness, action/reflection, East/West, etc., full of wisdom.

Happy Poetry Month