To love an old chair
is to love many people,
to adore the sweat of their arms
and the comfort of their bowed backs.
To care for the caning
it must matter that we become weary,
and yet even in our weariness
we are not too tired for beauty.
To tighten the dowel,
to true the rung,
to reconcile the rockers
to their forgotten vows,
these are not the salvage of memory,
but the quickening of hope.
For only by our hands will the wood
bear new babes from weeping into dreams.