Saturday, October 15, 2016


                    Hard-handed men with hammers bang on nails
                    Atop a roof they’re building blocks away
                    Beside whose effort my poor labor pales
                    As I sit in this easy chair and play,
                    Devising lines of cadences and rhymes
                    To build another moment’s monument,
                    A chronicle of sedentary times
                    Inspired by visions sometimes heaven sent
                    More often, though, pedestrian, like this
                    Tee-tum, tee-tum, a morning walkabout
                    Devised by ingenuity, not bliss,
                    Hack work with little artistry to tout.
                         It seems those carpenters are on a break,
                         So, I’ll shut up myself, for heaven’s sake.