Edmund’s Hardware

Outside the hardware store,

the display of stepladders

in red, green, yellow fiberglass,

blue and black plastic trash barrels,

and heavy steel wheelbarrows

absorbs the weather with a smile.

You want the tallest ladder to reach

the daylight moon simmering

in a marbled old-fashioned sky.

You’d hang a Christmas wreath

complete with blood-red ribbon

from a snag of creamy moon-rock

and wrap silver ropes of tinsel

right around the dark side.

I’m more eager to test-drive

the snow shovels leaning against

the rail of the wheelchair ramp.

Not enough snow to challenge

the larger scoops, though. Standing

in the dry cold while traffic

stammers along the highway,

we let the old-fashioned aura

of hardware soften us up

before we enter the store to shop

for a jagged set of drill-bits

and a handsaw cruel as the famous

serpent’s tooth. Ingratitude

doesn’t apply, though. We’re glad

this store thrives with products

so tactile, compact, and utile

that they affirm human aspects

distance like the moon’s denies.