A Dull Knife Is More Dangerous Than A Sharp One

I was once told,

“Every man should carry a pocket knife”

And so, I do

It cuts for me

Fishing line, cardboard boxes, sacks of fertilizer and dog food,

Hardened pecans in their shucks,

Those impenetrable toy packages the children

Hand over at Christmas

It uncouthly digs the dirt from under

My fingernails

Separates okra pods from their mother plants

Cuts the orange, plastic, weed-eater line to be

Hastily wound upon the empty spool

It serves me as a screwdriver at times,

A task to which it sacrificed

The pointed tip of its longest blade,

Making it now more fit for this role

It sharpens sticks for roasting marshmallows

Over the fire that pops and hisses

At my girls and I, faces aglow

Sometimes I neglect its blade to dullness

And in regret of this,

I hear more of my grandfather’s words,

“A dull knife is more dangerous than a sharp one”

So, I spit and touch its edge to stone

10-7-2014

©2019 Lenny Wells