Voices on the Wind
In the Field
by Susan Stevens
The man with the black lunchbox
is thinking. He is all geometry
as he nears the site where he knows
he is on new ground.
This man, who eschewed
touch-typing, will stop at nothing
to use both hands as he lays concrete
in shuttering. A laborer now, he imagines
writing a book on the esthetics
and the satisfaction of arduous toil,
when his hands might caress
the burl in a railroad tie
or a piece of honey onyx he found
by happenstance. He is heavy on irony,
and so is the prospect
of his contemplating aggregate, control joints,
braced 2x6 wood forms, concrete floating,
then gradually moving into passive solar
though he doesn't know it yet.
Next will be Xeriscape design,
placing gargantuan boulders,
creating abstract snakes out of concrete,
and designing a water wall.
This man will stop at nothing
to use the full range of his hands;
he has stopped at nothing
at every juncture,
at every turn of phrase.