Still

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