I hung them on the nail last fall
Before the frost could take them all
The workshop roof lets rain slip through
Now rust blooms where the stitching grew
Salt and hide won't stay buried
Iron drinks what time has carried
Fingers knew the rope and rail
Now the leather tells the tale
The grass grows high around the bench
Where oilcloth soaked the winter stench
No hand returns to claim the pair
Just wind and rot and coastal air
Salt and hide won't stay buried
Iron drinks what time has carried
Fingers knew the rope and rail
Now the leather tells the tale
I kept the lamp wick trimmed and clean
Through forty winters, harsh and mean
My hands don't climb the spiral stair
Leather rots in salted air
Salt and hide won't stay buried
Iron drinks what time has carried
Fingers knew the rope and rail
Now the leather tells the tale
One palm still holds the shape of grip
The other split at fingertip
No ceremony, no parade
Just tools the sea has slowly frayed
The workshop door hangs on one hinge
I pass it on the evening fringe
Don't need them where the lens turns round
But hate to hear them rot in ground
Salt and hide won't stay buried
Iron drinks what time has carried
Fingers knew the rope and rail
Now the leather tells the tale
Salt and hide won't stay buried
Iron drinks what time has carried
Two shades of grip in rusted leather
The sea takes back what held together
Salt and hide, salt and hide
