Artifact Poem

A steel blade

It was given, not made

Grandfather gave it to me

My grandchild’s blade to be

Another family heirloom

A family tree that blooms

Hunting, a family tradition

The blade is just a rendition

Hunters before me, hunters to be,

I think of the blade as I think of glee

Memory Poem

Sometimes I sit and ponder

Upon that crazy day,

The time I was filled with wonder

Even frozen trees would sway

Sometimes it was bad

Sometimes it was good

The things I would never have

And the things I always would

Cold frost on slick metal,

The mittens with no grip

Never a dull moment or brake pedal,

The day I took the slip

The glue chips were stuck

Like glue and like guck

Jagged breaks in my arm

The pain was only an alarm

Five separate breaks

I knew what I had done

Like a bunch of biting snakes

The day I broke my arm