Children of the Metal Man

You will recognize his offspring,
children of the Metal Man.
Large or small, they’re close-resembling,
raised and shaped by his own hands.
 
Their beginning, humble history:
they were born in dust and dirt,
from a place that is a mystery,
some refining didn’t hurt.
 
Started out not so appealing
but well-rounded, compass-drawn.
Heat and harshness of annealing
made them pliable, yet strong.
 
Often Father has to hammer
just to get his point across.
Tap his mallet when they yammer--
with those children, he is boss.
 
With all love and patience it takes,
they’ve grown up in a good home. 
Just like fingerprints or snowflakes,
unique shapes of orb or dome.
 
All have their own special beauty,
chased exterior, rough or bold,
some a little posh or snooty,
but all have a heart of gold.
 
And in them, the artist’s essence,
children of the Metal Man,
bring to us their father’s presence.
Come and meet one, if you can.

Background:  
I wrote a variation of this 
ekphrastic poem earlier 
this year for a contest put on by 
the Muskegon Museum of Art, 
inspired by this most elegant vessel
that is part of their collection.  
It was made by David Huang, 
a Michigan metalsmith artist,
using copper, silver and gold leaf.  
He is the father of hundreds 
of similar pieces, all unique 
and much to be desired.  

By the way, I never win anything 
in their contests, but I thoroughly 
enjoyed the museum, a hidden jewel 
right here in my state!