sun up sun down

he was proud of his
tools,
his hammers,
saws and drivers.
a screw for each purpose.
a nail
for every board
set against another.
measure twice,
cut once.
he liked the smell
of sawdust,
the taste of coffee
as he set the level
against the edge
of bricks.
sun up, sun down.
his truck clean and polished,
his overalls
and boots
dusty and wet from labor.
a lunch pail
on the ground.
there was nothing
he couldn't
fix, or make, or tear
down and build
up again.
the world will miss him,
as he will
the world.