All Need Purpose

A 12 foot long

rusty, old chain

having half inch links

curled like a tabby cat with meatless ribs

on crusty snow

dusted with orange rust.

A farmer, puzzled by its placement in a field under an Elm tree,

grabbed the hook at the chain’s end and pulled his prize,

popping up the links, vertebrae by vertebrae,

freeing them at last from their own heaviness.

Finally unfurled, free, yet connected, the chain stretched out long and strong,

cutting a path through crystallized grass behind the farmer

as he dragged it home to his farm.

Wanting to salvage this beautiful tool used to pull,

the farmer gave it a bath in a galvanized bucked filled with used motor oil,

scrubbed, then polished each link clean,

and hung it in a neat coil from a spike on the wall in his barn.

There, the chain waited, longing to be stretched out,

long and strong, ready to pull something heavy,

needing to break free from the turmoil

of the predictable, comfortable coil.