In the Moment

No time for poetry the last few days as I am putting down a hard wood floor. There is much poetry in many ways in that, as in everything else, and more. There really is a metaphor for life. Fix a sonnet on the fly so to speak but a hard wood floor, just as in life, can be unforgiving and will sneak up on you. One bad measure, your work is rife with effects that you spend the rest of it paying for and doing shuck and jive to stay on a steady course. Tongue must fit each groove, each floor board from the first one to the last. Each perfect till you are done.