Tony's sharpening

Hudson Review, The, Summer 2003 by Sarah, Robyn

A summer evening sound, his silver bell,

summoning householders to bring

their scissors, kitchen knives, blunt blades

to sing against his whetstone.

Tony the Sharpener. He used to pass

on a bicycle, years back.

Now it's a little truck he has,

but the same sweet-toned bell

cling-clings across the evening's

linden-laden air, the languid games

of after-supper children

granted a stay of bath and bed

for the red hour of afterglow

when robins pipe in the hedge.

Tony, spin your stone again,

give life back its edge.