Stratified

A brazier, lit picket wood,

old fences snapped, incinerate,

matched striker’s fire on picket line

as drivers hoot passing support.

How long outstretched this breaker’s yard

before tired feet returned to work,

a straggle hungry, angry men,

defeated in their wanton quest,

a feat beyond their meagre wage

save those with something set aside?

At least the winter, whether blessed,

brought standing warmth of filtered sun

as dawned, their struggle a lost cause,

with mothers weeping, babe at breast,

while wide-eyed kids envied feasts seen.

Arrested at the scene before,

their families without a dime,

wood embers losing, rising warmth -

a battle line of solar, son,

for ’twas his lad first calling quits.

But wisdom of an older lore

became essential in this war;

while young have visions, old dream dreams,

so muscle memory revived.

They bore slow hours to meditate

bathed by the glow that justice bears,

while learning season’s tanning health

through face, skin, mind, its flow to heart.

As spring brought fresh life on those grounds

so budding craftsmen came to bloom.

Published by Prosetrics, 18th January 2025