There is nothing like a Saturday morning all alone.
No money work to do,
No unwanted obligations to fulfill,
No art for pay, no writing for others.
I woke up this morning and rewired a thermostat,
Fishing the new wire through the walls
And years of paid-worker bogus patch jobs,
And wires over wires, awkward staples over staples
Through other wires, and dust everywhere
From three families who have lived here.
I fixed everything, vacuumed the joices and rafters,
Took out all the old wires, put in nice new wires,
Removed the old wallpaper over which someone
Had just slapped the old thermostat,
Repainted the area and affixed
The new digital, programmable one.
Someday someone
Will come along and replace it again
With something really new and amazing.
Perhaps he or she will say,
"The guy who did this old thermostat
Must have really liked living here.
He did such a good job."
But more likely they'll just slap
Up the new one, never noticing that for a time
Someone lived here who knew the house
And loved every board, every nail,
Every nook and cranny of it.
Someone once lived here who thought
Of this house and land as his favorite
Place in all the world ...
Home.

12/06/2006

Posted on 05/03/2015
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