blasts from the bloomery

The Blacksmith

By Melissa J. Hill

Published in the October 2001 Issue of Anvil Magazine

The sun peeks in through the barn door
Where the hot coal fire glows
With strength and skill and anvil
He perfects an art, with each hammer blow

Every strike from his heavy hammer
On to the red, hot steel he forms -
A once straight, cold piece of metal
Into a shoe...tailor made for the coming horse

As a blacksmith, he's known, across the miles
For his determination and his drive
He is one of the best at what he does
For forging and shoeing have become his life

Not much family left to talk about
Most lost, some years ago
But no need to worry about lonesome now
A coal fire warms him from the winter's cold

His days are spent with horses
And his nights are spent alone
Yet his mind is forever working -
Thinking of the anvil and the forge

Until his days are numbered
And the gray has set in his hair
A horse that bears no rider
Will be his unaware

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