#ancientthings

Iron, wood, curve and blade,

it hangs upon my wall,

a cutting tool of ancient make

to make the fields fall.

An instrument for sweeping

its edge across the grain,

a weapon forged for reaping

the living freshly slain.

My elders swung it over fields,

to fodder folk and flock,

the sustenance the soil yields

for stowing winter stock.

Now, it looms above my head,

a reminder on display

that no man earns his daily bread