With a small sputter
we swing back into work,
finding our rhythm,
finding the feed of joy
that comes from being mindfully engaged

The tools have secrets
they can teach me —
the crowbar and the hammer
can be artfully employed —
nails squeak and creak
and give up, and come out,
bent and spent, to throw into a bucket

We work till dark,
we put the tools away,
we rest, rewarded
by the progress made.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 7, 2018