Carpenter of the Sun

I'm not the kind of person who likes a lot of poems. It's rare I find one I really like. Here's one of them.

CARPENTER OF THE SUN

My child goes forth to fix the sun,
a hammer in his hand and a pocketful of nails.
Nobody else has noticed the crack.

Twilight breaks on the kitchen floor.
His hands clip and hammer the air.
He pulls something out,

something small, like a bad tooth,
and he puts something back,
and the kitchen is full of peace.

All this is done very quietly,
without payment or promises.

- Nancy Willard