A hammer I found
On a tall mound of earth,
Only man-made,
So little like Thor’s.
I swung it at mountains
Of old washing up,
I heaved through the trees
Of ancestors lost.
The townspeople laughed
As I toiled and I huffed,
Its handle unvarnished,
Its corners were scuffed.
Look at him missing,
They sang and they coughed,
But they couldn’t see
The meaning of moths,
Shattered my ego,
Departing the docks.