“The youth gets together his materials
to build a bridge to the moon.... the
middle-aged man concludes to build
a woodshed with them.”
These are the planks of our youth.
We will haul them out.
Here are the nails we collected in jam jars;
here the nuts and bolts we bought with pennies.
Far in the back of closets are the meticulous plans
sketched in the margins of comic books
and faded school assignments.
We will break open the toolbox
rusted from neglect.
We will grasp the old weight
of hammer and saw.
The earth and sky remember
our eyes. We will begin.