Hay being coaxed in handfuls from a ruck,
Paid out to be taken in by furl and swivel,
Turned and tightened, rickety-rick, to rope –
Though just as often at the other end
I'd manipulate the hook,
Walking backwards, winding for all I was worth
By snag and by sag the long and the short of it
To make ends mesh –
in my left hand
The cored and threaded elderberry haft,
In my right the fashioned wire,
breeze on my back,
Sun in my face, a power to bind and loose
Eked out and into each last tug and lap.
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