The Art of the Decoy

Stepping into the workshop,
the aroma of cedar slaps my face.
Again, I thank God
for this heavenly place.

Seeing woodchips from yesterdays,
forming a pile.
To be able to add to that,
brings me a smile.

I look up at the lifeless blocks,
all waiting in line.
To become a Black, a Mallard,
or a shorebird of mine.

The cedar fence post 6" diameter,
a Scaup, a Scoter or maybe a Woody. 
I'll decide. What power!
It's going to be a Ruddy.

 I take time to remember the masters; Lincoln, Crowell, Steve and Lem Ward.
Seeing their work
is my reward.    

Feeling the wood peel, sculpting with a push of the knife, 
the intercom buzzes;
its the wife!

 "Supper!"
 O.K.
I mutter.
Twenty minutes go by.
 She buzzes. 
"Your dinner's getting cold!"
Just five more minutes
to finish the bill.
This one's sold!

. After chow, back to the shop.
Gotta finish, can't stop.
It's 8 p.m., she buzzes again.
"Come kiss the kids goodnight." 
A Goldeneye could be next.
I may, I might.

Back to the shop.
I think, a Greenwing Teal.
Grab the gouges, the glue,
for that water tight seal.

It's now 10 p.m...
Time flies when you're having fun.
But the pillow calls,
and I hug my wife.
"I love you, Hon."   

You let me do my thing,
you're an understanding wife.
You encourage, not complain.
You're #1 in my life.

As the pillow caresses my head,
and my eyes close with anticipation,
I dream of another day,
I can use my imagination.

To bring life to lifelessness,
brings me great joy.
"It's folk , It's Americana"
It's the "Art of the Decoy"