in memory of Corrie Corrado (1907-1994)
The shop was cluttered
with the woods of ages -
maple, cherry, mahogany.
You'd have to wend your way
along the creaking floor
through the labyrinth
of shapes and patterns,
stains and fabrics,
past the machines
router, drill press, lathe,
to the ancient workbench
chisels, clamps, glue pot,
to the cabinetmaker himself -
this small, unassuming Italian
in stain-splattered pants
and workshirt
sleeves rolled up
pockets bulging
with pens, pencils, papers
the endless jotting of ideas
his wondrous hands
unfazed by the clock
quietly transforming the commonplace
into the sublime.
