Changing forces

The hammer strikes and then withdraws

 

To strike again it’s second blow
The saw thrusts deep and then returns
To thrust time and time again

 

 

The spokeshave shaves my wood, the wood resists.
I press hard, firmly I push forward. The wood grabs still.
I withdraw from the fight, turn my spokshave around.
The wood remains the same, but I, instead of pushing; forcing my will in the same direction with great force, pull.

Gently, firmly the shaving rises whole and complete.
The wood resists no more.
I press lightly now.
The wood yields submissively to gentleness.
My fingers trace the softness sheered and resting