The Stone Masons
Early fall, cool, dry morning. Two men
wash and scrub the wall, scrape stubborn
moss, remove broken sections.
The stone saw whines.
All day on their hands and knees. One
cuts and shapes the stone. His backward
ball cap, sleeve tattoos. The older man -
clean work shirt, Ricardo over the left
chest pocket, trowels mortar, places each
piece. I watch them shape, fit, and tap
stones into place. Their movements
a precise dance, the wall their jigsaw puzzle.
Standing, stretching sore backs and knees,
the masons check the lines of their work.
Faces and coveralls coated with dust, chips.
Stones are removed, reshaped, replaced.
They work in earnest. These are the last
warm, dry days. The oaks have already
dropped their leaves. Nights intensely
black and soundless. But now
the young mason struggles with a pile
of new stones in the bed of the old
pickup. His partner continues cutting
and repairing.
Dusk and the dust-covered radio plays
norteño music. The men spread tarps
over stones and tools. Tomorrow they
will finish their work.
The wall is perfect.
Fredric Lee Hildebrand is a retired physician living in Neenah, WI. He is the author of two poetry chapbooks, Northern Portrait (Kelsay Books, 2020), and A Glint of Light (Finishing Line Press, 2020). His recent poetry has appeared in The San Antonio Review and Sky Island Journal.
When not writing or reading, he plays acoustic folk guitar and explores the Northwoods with his wife and two Labrador retrievers.
Amethyst Review 