Chime of dawn on water,
pennies pitched at a glass plate,
frogs’ bright chirp, all dusk and reed:
The winch inches tire from mire,
ratcheting lever trading force for distance
for safety, every third turn
my brother hammering the hoist to keep
its pins and housing true.
The fireflies luminesce
while light’s departure leeches yellow
out from blue,
and all the vastness of night
grips my chest, propels my step
indoors, away from the clacking call
of come-alongs, two men and mechanical
advantage dragging the truck uphill.