Sun still out of sight I
poured the rest of my day’s work
into a bowl with milk from night-
sky’s motherly cow Hathor
I listened to the hounds demand
a run and I went with them.
Mistakes cry out for fixing
try it again carefully this time
to refresh the valley’s burnt fields
cover them with river mud
to get an unsightly spot
off the floor spit on it.
Willing to crumble I harden
starting to fall I stand
I built an arch of plans each
pressing against the others
transferring all the weight
of failure into the ground.
Sixty years it took to grow
in the same place everchanging
up to heaven or at least reaching
blessing us with birds and shade
old man who planted it tired
of picking up after it cut it down.
In the future work is finished
all the good ideas and starts
will get filled out and polished
stacks of scratchings and studies
will edit themselves and find
solace covered and perfectly bound.