With Calloused Fingers

Each day before dawn he sits
upon a sturdy maple stool like a throne
for stringing up his ever-fading
chestnut leather work boots.
At the womb of the morning, a moment;
before the threshold of the day, a choice 
ratified by time and buttressed
by a sturdy maple stool,
to shoulder tomorrow like a great blessed boulder,
and with calloused fingers
to cross one lace over the other.