Dawn’s creep arrives unnoticed,
camouflaged by dense fog.
Stressed trees,
shed leaves prematurely on this Labor Day,
and in the driveway, I hear Doves enjoying,
their menu for today.
A holiday breakfast of smashed Acorns,
courtesy of our car tires.
This breakfast is served up annualy
by an Oak Tree I planted fifty + years ago.
Forecast is for scattered showers,
but it won’t matter, no cookout planned.
I’ll do what I’m doing and sip cooling coffee
from my favorite “published poet” mug.
It won’t be Myleopathy,
C.K.D., C.H.D that kills me,
It will be all this excitement!!!
Jesus Loves Us!
Please don't do unto me,
Cuz we don't see eye to eye%
As far as I can see,
Our Democracy's a tie!
Like you, I love the "Free,"
But, what's a fella to do?
Cuz, you are just like ME,
And, I am just like YOU!
You can search town to town,
Just the flip-side of a coin.
Cuz, when the chips are down,
Then the working class gets goin'......©©©÷©©©
^ ^
Citizens...Choosing...Country
Happy Labor Day America!
Evermore under the moon’s peaceable
beaming,
are the dreams of the day’s laborers ~
For the forty 3rd attempt
Of incline
A forty 3rd question unanswered
Los Angeles requires an accomplishment
As yet the roofs of wealth choir no challenge
Stilled in self wonder the share constants
Water and health in abundance, again
This execution remembers every faculty
Partners and sermons
Cost and boss
The build of document to spend
Little shadows of Washington fend
The framers of a Los Angeles hard at work
During war time
Without end
Preparing the give
Ready for another attack
That steal refuses its sound
Prefer of the city and cities charity
Suggest of intonation
None strate to the cause
America in Los Angeles only lensing past tense
Encampments of abandon
In a day of labor, no notes
No reservation
No surplus
IN GOD’S OCCUPATION
In all God’s seasons,
Labors of love are engaged:
Thus, be who you are.
You have been chosen by God,
To be the TEACHER'S teacher:-
To hands that toil from dawn till night,
In sun's harsh blaze or fading light,
You build the world we proudly see,
With silent strength and dignity.
You mend the roads, you sow the land,
With weathered skin and calloused hands.
Your sweat is ink on history's page,
Your spirit—brave, no gilded cage.
No marble hall, no silver throne,
Can stand without the stone you've thrown.
Each brick you lay, each crop you tend,
Is proof of love that doesn't bend.
You are the heart, the pulse, the flame,
Too long unsung, too often unnamed.
But on this day, we lift you high,
Beneath the flag, beneath the sky.
May justice walk where you have led,
May fair reward meet daily bread.
The world may rest, the rich may play,
Because you rise each breaking day.
For all you've given, all you've done,
For battles lost and victories won,
We thank you now with humbled grace;
The world is better for your place.
I.
The night was as thick as melted asphalt
when her prehistoric form
emerged like a monument
in the sand
and each egg that descended
spiked the air with the scent of birth,
sweet, pungent,
and female.
Drunk with labor,
she could not sense the mass
of people that surrounded her,
the eggs that slid through her rubbery body,
or perhaps the knowledge
that, in minutes, she would abandon
them forever.
Who could know
how far she had traveled
or what force had pulled her home
like snare
in that death-black sea.
II.
Do they look for her
when they have pushed their way
through the grit and sand
or fumble for the safety
of her strong flipper
when all she has left behind is instinct
cold as the saltwater
that must sting their newly formed eyes.
Decades later, the few that survive
will rotate the earth with their memories,
the turbulent water pressing
against them like sadness
to return to the place where they were born.
And when they reach it
do they search for her
before entering that trance,
wanting to see that she, too, has come back
and has been waiting all this time
in the darkness.
Two rings for vow
Meet in altar
Once in lifetime.
At last past years
Had passed made fruit
Labor of love.
Patience lays egg
If you believe
Yield good result.
True love awaits
If your hope last
End of rainbow.
Scrape away, at a life. You just weren’t given any real instructions –
so, you scrape like a carpenter
at grey washed walls, wanting
to peel off old paint – old memories,
in your head you scrap away
the talk back – that little
squirrel inside the trunk of your head
it scrapes.
You scrape and scream, you scrape and
feel the muscle of your right hand
figure the page into
something. You scrape
days and trash them. Who
will find them? Who cares that you scrape
while in labor? scrape every morning you wake –
scrape on body, scrape on heart, scrape on this
bloody life
until you just can’t scrape –
Another test to prove -
if its true that distance is shorter
to mom's house than mine?
And witness -
how belted-in kids can still spin up reasons
to fight and bite;
or explore why -
at least one kid gets sick
so quickly at the start of the trip;
and rehearse our scripts
on what to say or not say to the in-laws;
all this to the cadence of thump-thump-thump
of the concrete freeway;
And yet still discover happiness -
is a sizzling steak as big as a plate,
is a steaming cup of coffee,
a moment's peace, a blissful
pause at a truck stop,
where time and miles -
don't exist.
My body's not a stone, unyielding and cold
Nor is it wood, unfeeling, and old
It's flesh and blood, with needs that must be met
Rest and relaxation, to rejuvenate and reset
Don't be a slave to labor, toiling ceaselessly
For when you're gone, your efforts will be but a memory
Those you've worked for, will call you a fool, in death
For neglecting your own needs, and sacrificing your last breath
Find solace in leisure, and joy in life's delight
Savor the fruits of your labor, before the darkness of night
Take a sip of wine, let music move your soul
Dance and merry, let your spirit be made whole
Don't hoard treasures, you'll never live to enjoy
Be moderate, and decisive, let wisdom be your employ
Let go of hatred, and malice, for they'll bring you pain
And lead to heart attacks, and a life of regret and strain
Life's short, enjoy it, while you may
Do good, create impact, but don't overdo, come what may
Consider your health, and your maker, in all you do
For a life of balance, is a life that's true.
Man of labor
Most honorable
Title on Earth.
September falls within the best of times.
Elections nearing, campaigns underway;
Predictions, weather-wise for cooler climes.
Thus teachers, teens and toddlers break from play
Ere education calls their minds to grind.
Men have endorsed re-naming Labor Day;
But that’s September’s summons of a kind
Enlight’ning us of work that must go on
Regardless of what holiday we find.
Fall features color when the green is gone
And orange, yellow, red and brown have blessed.
Load up those fruits and walnuts and pecans;
Leave acorns for the squirrels building nests.
September brings to time its very best.
On Labor Day, some stores are closed
And many catch a break
By getting paid for staying home,
No penalty at stake.
I guess it’s kind of strange
That this time off’s a welcome perk
For a day that honors workers –
That is irony at work.
But there always are some laborers
Who never get to stop,
Which includes those gals in labor
Who are just about to pop.
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