Carpenter

cluck! cluck!! cluck!! He hammers a nail into the hardwood, wiping sweat from his brow as the scorching sun prides itself in the middle of the sky. He examines a curve on the casket he is making, he is dissatisfied, he grabs a chisel and begins to chisel away carefully. As every splinter of wood falls to the ground he nods his head in satisfaction, he stops to wipe more sweat from his brow he mutters something to himself, looks up to the sky angrily and curses the heavens for the heat. But isn't it man who brought the sun closer? well, that is what the govt official who came to our village told us, "global warming" he called it. I wonder why he labours so hard to make this ugly reminder of death look perfect, the dead do not care about aesthetics, I do not think they care so much what happens to their bodies here bury it, burn it, they get a new one either way.