the blacksmith of reed city

I walked into Tall Moose Café’

To have a cup of coffee,

To watch the local folk and talk

Or read the paper maybe.

 

In strode a soft-eyed

sun-drenched man;

his worn straw hat was tearing.

A wrought iron leaf hung

on his chest,

showed off his craft, his caring.

 

And at his waist a soft suede pouch

Lay fringed and hanging there.

Upon his wrist, a horseshoe twist

Of iron met my tense stare.

 

“Are you a native of this place?”

Five years,” he smiled with pleasure.

“I love that bracelet on your arm.”

He handed me the treasure.

 

“I made it, I’m a blacksmith here.”

I thanked him, sounding giddy.

Ah, Renny Hampton is his name,

The blacksmith of Reed City.

 

            Gail (July ’10) tells of her Reed City adventure, “I was checking out Reed City, Mich., because one of my daughters was going to marry a young man from that place, and I happened on to the Blacksmith of Reed City. It was a surprise when he offered his bracelet to me, so I wrote a poem about my pleasure.”

 

* a poem from the Aug 2010 edition of Ninepatch *

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