For those who worked tools now here on my bench,
Who hammered this chisel and turned that wrench;
Uncles and grandfathers carving and stamping…
Brothers in temples of craftwork and clamping.
To the faceless hands whose prints mine replaced
And your unseen plans in the dust mine erased;
Like seed spread your pieces with beauty to bring,
Some to be sat on and others to sing.
Every chip carved with the craftsman’s intent,
And it all went somewhere whatever it meant.
I hope I bring honor to this memory I’m keeping
As the shavings of my work fall ready for sweeping.
Their logos are faded from years in our hands,
No longer defined by beginnings or brands;
And where will they go when my time sets them free?
Perhaps I’m the project and they’re working me.
But what about you oh mysterious crafter?
The tools only move in the hands of a master…
In the spokes long shaved and rolled to the dust,
Your scars on the handle ~ your sweat in the rust.
Thanks for checking in… I’ll be skipping this news blog next week, doing more of the “doing” than the talking about it. Build pictures will – as always – be updated as they’re taken. By the way – what are you missing by not following Birdsong Guitars and/or Scott Beckwith on Facebook? Lots more updates, pictures, and special offers! Go find & follow/friend us. Have a great weekend & week!
Listening to: Kamasi Washington “The Epic”; John Williams “Spanish Guitar Music”; and “The Art of Sax” box set (just FULL of great jazz!)