MY "WENCH"

We rhapsodize over leaves,                                             

create odes to sunsets,

but give wrenches less notice

than even rocks.

Wrenches comes in sizes and shapes and colors,

just like people,

but no one give prejudices to a wrench

or talks about their longevity

or competence

or beauty

or usefulness.

Wrenches don’t wither and change with the season.

They don’t tire of us.

They are always faithfully there

when they are needed

Wrenches share similarity to the challenged girl

who never gets asked to dance,

unless she is the last resort

necessary to help with

an upcoming school math test.

Today, I took my own “Channel Lock,”

polished her with gun oil,

gently wiped her,

and sat for a moment

pondering her repose

upon a yellow rag of a towel.

I placed her gently back into

my tool bag with her other friends,

and looked out my window

at the beautiful fall leaves outside.

-Jerry Wendt 2017