The Nail

This morning, walking in

In my path was a single nail

I picked it up at first

To save a tire

Or a paw

Or a snail

I held it in my hand

Twirling it as I walked

And in the front of my mind

Generations of voices talked

Grandfather says

“Keep it! One for the tool box.”

Father says

“Chuck it! A cluttered house is lost.”

Sister says

“Recycle! And consider yourself smart.”

Mother says

“Trust! Just do what’s in your heart.”

I pondered what they said

Sensitive to the tone

How could there be so many voices?

Yet still I was alone

I hammered the nail in my closet

And that was that was that

The nail now has a purpose

A spot to hang my hat