Our men

Muted majesty, powerful men amble outside
Their steps are heavy and slow, cigarettes hanging famliarly from their
Sticky lips, their conversations held in low grumbles of laughter
Eyes that have seen so much twinkle with practiced mischief
Breaths full or beer and mirth rise from their belly
They talk of hard times, what their daddy did, what they did
They talk about the earth, they talk about the railroads
Telling of the rocks and mines and metal that forge their blood
My family, my kin, these are our men, they kiss their women, leathery cheeks
Adding extra vowels to their doting nicknames, drawling
"Honey"s and "baby"s sink into my ears and my heart and I know
These are our men, broken and earnest, passionate and reckless,
Gentle and growing older