By Winifred Jaeger

He worked on it every day,
arranged dowels at odd angles,
fastened rope and fishing line,
sprockets and pulleys, a network

of objects fashioned or found,
plywood scraps, bits of shelving,
wires wound in brass or plain,
metal sheets cut to imaginary shapes.

To an unknown purpose he filled
his garage with this machine,
leaving scant room for an array
of tools and glues he had devised

He added toy wheels, plastic pipe
and kitchenware in colors fanciful
to the eye. When all parts were
connected, he plugged it in,

and it thumped as it turned.
It clacked, squeaked and groaned
as it whirled in varied paths.
He marveled at its dance.