An ode to concretion my father’s
Work-a-day forearms were
Their wealth and welter in repose
For the right place in time for
Their rhyme and showing
Hands like catcher’s mitts
Grasp pipe after pipe
Selection de-selection
Tip of tongue in corner of mouth felty wet
An imperceptible nod decides
Cutting twisting
Length and angle wooed
To matrimonial fit
Veins erupt
Consanguineous congregants
Enfolded in praise
Yes, a service to concretion his work was
An everyman’s infra-structure wonderfully made
Sinew-pipes towing for fluid to fluid flowing
A correspondent latent stratum formerly un-sublimate there-in
Now, in-laid glowing!
Copyright © 2016 by Mark Pidgeon