The Wheelwright by Karl Franzen

There was a man in Templeton
who built the wooden wheel.
He carved them out of oak and ash
and bound them down in steel.
His arms were like the sea and stone,
his eyes were like the sky.
His hammer blows were like a ravens cry.

She rode in on a steed of clouds
and eagle feathers, downy white.
Her breath it mingled with the darkness
of a moonlit winter night.
Forced to carry but few things
her carriage being in disrepair.
She saw the wagon wheel maker there.

Sir, I do not know your name
although I see it written there:
upon the arm of oaken girth
the tatto of a wheel you bear.
I need your service to make right
my carriage e'er the sun arise.
Bring with you a wheel of this size.

The town dissolved in distant night
the brightness of a star.
The lady and the wheelright
pinned the iron bar.
Her carriage being in good repair
she bid the man adieu...
but before she left,
a jewel to him she threw.

Take back your jewel, my gentle girl,
but share with me this mead:
for I have vowed to take no payment
from a friend in need.
The world is now a better place
for both of us to sleep.
Go in peace
and from all trouble keep.
Go in peace
and from all trouble keep.

--©2001 Karl Franzen
--from "For Earth and Her People"