The Old Sawhorses

by Michelle Read

those old sawhorses
built out of 2 by 4's in '64,
forty years of splashing paint
turned them into circus clowns
with a strong work ethic.

notched like rhythm sticks
saw cuts recorded along their lengths
Swede saw, hack saw, wood saw, skill saw,
the odd chip gone from a hatchet whack
music resounds from the yard when you drag a board along the beams,
chattering over scars of service

the shelves still bear books
the table still holds up a lamp
the birdhouse still keeps bluebirds
safe from squirrels
the picnic table sinks into the ground
but still serves up lunch
the swing set, blue and red, still swings, though now it's
the grandchildren laughing

and the sawhorses stand straight,
joints creaky but firm
ready for the next occasion
like costumed Percherons
pulling in a parade.

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