A Masons Day Poem by Martin Moore

A MASONS DAY


I recall vividly my father's strong hands
Clasped around a granite building stone
And he placing it precisely at a point in the wall
Where only it would go.
"Made for it" he would say
As indeed it was
For only moments before
He had honed it with hammer and cold chisel
To fit this very spot.
On and on it would go until dusk fell
The tap of the hammer
The rap of the chisel
His masterpiece.
This perfect pegmatite puzzle.
I was in awe and always in tow.
I'd labour and mix until perfection was achieved
For he demanded it so.
A granite jig-saw lay before us
All the pieces in place and home we'd head
The day's work ended
He to Bolger's and me to bed.