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.
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