The Rosehead Nail

Blacksmithing demonstration, mountain arts and crafts fair, Monteagle, TN “But can you forge a nail?” the blond boy asks, And the blacksmith shoves a length of  iron rod Deep in the coal fire cherished by the bellows Until it glows volcanic. He was a god Before anachronism, before the tasks That had been craft were jobbed out to machine. By dint of   hammer-song he makes his keen, Raw point, and crowns utility with rose: Quincunx of facets petaling its head. The breeze-made-visible sidewinds. The boy’s Blonde mother shifts and coughs.Once Work was wed To Loveliness— sweat-faced, swarthy from soot, he Reminds us with the old saw he employs (And doesn’t miss a beat): “Smoke follows beauty.”