Work

Socked In

Socked in

Does it feel alright in the early light?

Do you feel brand new or is your game uptight?

Is there fire in your belly, do you rise like a dozen?

Did you lose the spark, is it flat and sudden?

 

Does it burst at the seams when you think on your dreams?

Did you trip and fall when it wasn’t what it seems?

Was your voice dampened by the blanket of snow?

Did you plant the bulbs that are buried below?

 

Does the work that you do, really see you through?

Does it hit the bark and burn up the dew?

Is it honed by the stone, honest and true?

Is it dull and blunt and all askew?

 

When it cuts through your coat, and bites your cheek

In winters half-light, the way it did on your street

Does it take you back, get you back on track?

Does it come from your kin, all the feelings within?

 

When it lights up a face, does it fill you with grace?

By the globe lamplight, where we said goodnight

Do they fill you up and pull you through?

Childlike and free, along the avenue

 

Still I’ll promenade now, down to the white horse

Past the pines in portland, to where its gale force

In sheets of rain, here it comes again

Never lets me down, never lets me frown 

 

And when it tucks in behind, and stretches out

Where it comes in on time and leaves no doubt

Where silhouettes skim, for home in a note

Caught in the twilight, by the working boat

 

So when you put it to bed

Never mind what they said

Just keep making hay, and then you just might

For another turn beckons in the early light

(2020)

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