It started with boiled meat,
Aging pavement, and
Standard, unpainted shovels.
Many have seen the Michigan sky in March.
From the salt in salt and pepper,
To the distinguished uniform of West Point,
To a pewter pitcher fallen to disrepair.
Hosts of birds, fish, and the endangered wolf.
But also in charcoal's heart,
The ash it was before,
And the ash it will be again.
Or, often, the beginning of pottery.
There is work in the links of a chain link fence
That the fog will ignore as it rolls over this town.