I will have coffee and cigarettes on the porch.
I will watch the morning build itself
from fading dark. Men will arrive,
and I will think that this is work
I could do myself, but it will not be
true: there are to be new steps, and I
will only watch. There will be scrap heaps
and sawdust, and I will be busy, inspecting
cobwebs in the joists, pondering errant
commas, watching for the mailman’s van.
About the Poet: Ron. Lavalette lives in Vermont, land of the fur-bearing trout and the bilingual stop sign. He’s been widely published, both in print and online. A reasonable sample of his work can be found at EGGS OVER TOKYO: http://eggsovertokyo.blogspot.com
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