Silence Circled.

Hearing the tools of the workmen sing  
the ring...  
then echo of each blow,  
this hammering echoing,  
pause, pause, then the swing  
clang and echo of the echoing  
the hammer fell, then rose  
unseen, it goes...  
 
to the child  
where silence fills ever crack  
at home,  
this child, seemingly alone, empty wracked  
and isled,  
could fill some doctor's weighty tome  
with hammer blows ringing
forging silent circles  
here, within.