Seeing it through…the seasons
I’ve watched the hinges
on this fishing shack door
go through a rich transformation.
My knees were new
when the galvanized grey
was still shiny
My shoulders could carry
the youngest grandchild
when the rust took hold
My eyes were clear
when the bottom one
was replaced
My hands could still
knit sweaters
when the paint started to chip
Now
as you can see
most of the white wash is gone
the screws have given way
and the bottom swings out
when a nor’easter blows across the pond
We’ve seen a lot of seasons
but we’ve both lived
to tell some tales
