Member-only story
Rhythms
a poem about work
Sep 10, 2019
The work makes it own rhythm
Drawing its design from your breath
Constructing its parameters
From the marrow of your bones
Laying the foundation with the permanence
Of your pulse until it breathes your air
Into its lungs and eats your flesh
With its mouth and you become its pulse
Moving through its veins and it is your blood
Now that nourishes its muscles in readiness
For work called out long ago.
__________
Copyright 2009 Marguerite Floyd all rights reserved
