In the evening the wind stills,
and the work, though it continues till dusk,
is quieter — no thrum of generator,
no flap of windblown plastic,
just the intermittent buzz
of the skill saw, and the thunk
of extra rafter tail hitting the dirt

Later, we, too, will be still,
still in the aftermath of work,
still hefting lumber in our dreams.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 25, 2019