The Initiation

Grandpa, the ornery ol’ cuss, sparkled.
The mischief could be seen on his face, it oozed into his voice, said;
"What is this contraption? Why, it's a project that hasn't been finished."
"It's been waiting for my apprentice to show up. That's what it is."
Wide-eyed, simply amazed, Jeremy sat there, he watched.
While grandpa motioned to the various parts of the piece, he continued;
"I've completed the bottom, the sides, even the door.
Now all we need to add is the top, the handle, no more!".

Off the workbench, Jeremy hopped, down to the floor.
This explanation, well, it just made him wonder even more.
Straightened himself, brushed the sawdust off his shorts.
Puffed out his chest, a cheesy smile spread across his face.
Formed a left-handed, two-fingered salute, at his forehead.
Snapped his hand away, up into the air, said;
"Grandpa, your number one apprentice, has reported for duty."
See, it's the boys club! The secret handshake was a salute!
Smiling, Grandpa took the piece, set it in the middle of the table.
Turned to Jeremy, ordered him; "Now, wander over to the recycle barrel.
Start digging in there. Find me a scrap of aluminum screen.
A piece that will fit this here contraption, all the way around it."

It's the initiation, Grandpa pulled out the necessary tools to finish his next lesson.
Everything needed to fit the next generation of woodworking descendants.
Tools, a workshop full of tools, someday, he hoped, would fit a grandson's hand.
Over in the corner, Jeremy rummaged in the recycle barrel.
Looking for the perfect screen, dug all the way to the bottom.
"Jeremy, do you remember last year when we trapped bugs in a glass jar?
How worried you were that they couldn't breath after the lid was tightened?
How air holes were provided, in the lid by a nail and hammer?
All those careful efforts we made, to allow fresh air in the jar?"
Grandpa continued; "When it was time to release them, back to their homes.
A new discovery, how some remained behind, crippled in the bottom of the jar.
A profound inability to walk, crawl, fly, or even light up anymore.
As if, though legs, wings, were battered, bruised, possibly even cut.
Fingers ran across the air holes in the lid, inspecting for safety.
A puzzlement, a new development... upon closer inspection.
Razor sharp, torn edges, air holes; their gifts, small cuts, fingertips.
Original intentions; Provision, life's breath for those trapped inside.
Results; crippling edges, concertina wire, truly a prison."

Remembering earlier comments from Jeremy, Grandpa said,
"After sunset, we'll go sit in the front yard.
Have a grand ol’ celebration with the visiting family friends.
We can watch Charlie, and his family, light up their life.
Maybe, we'll visit for awhile, you could even meet his wife.
This summer, something different will be done.
New plans, places, new air holes that won't cripple.
It's to be a humane shelter, a temporary home.
A safe haven, a shelter to use, while they light up our life."
Proudly, Jeremy located a scrap of screen, thinking it would fit.
Carefully, carried it back to the workbench, handed it over to grandpa, said;
"This looks like it will fit all the way around the piece.
Grandpa, I enjoyed your story, but I still don't know.
What is this contraption?"

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