(For R.D. Schmidt, in memory of C.W. Schmidt)

You cannot take the measure of a man
from his ruler, the one that rested
in the dark of a slender desk drawer
until it was called into service,

then brought into squinty office light
by the hands of an accountant who
set the straight edge to paper
and drew a confident line

from there to there. Thousands
of feet of line, maybe miles of line,
penciled along the top ridge of that
18-inch artifact now treasured

by his beloved son—himself now
eight decades into a life made,
in no small part, by the hands
of the man who measured and

cared for the tools of his trade,
who had no idea what a treasure
this simple device would become.