labor of love

each morning, early rising. gaze across waves of cascades, fuchsia and azure skies fading into endless lapis lazuli shores. cracked wheat and eggshells, pop-fizz-cackle of boiling coffee and burning grill, eyes slow to open.

each day, a longer hike into the fray. take turns hauling hewn tools, steel teeth and curved petals on glove-roughened wood legs. feet creak in leather sheaths, brush thru dust-dry grass and shrub along the narrow path.

heave-ho! to work we go! beat, brush, crush the fill, tamp the ground, level still? even the tread – two feet wide, room enough for bridled beasts and brahmins with up-looking eyes. limbs swing along the line, pendulums of heart and mind joined staccato in uneven time.

morning break. bites of apple, nut, some eat their lunch. munch, crunch, rebuild sinews and smiles. share sugar snacks and a few laughs.

to work again! blistering skin, sun bears higher, water level more dire. continue along, sing silly songs, plow and prod as morning fades. watch the berm! ho the path, forth and back, cut into earth, pause for breaths of dust and sap. the sledge strikes near, whispers of rock across cheeks and ears.

lunch, time for more munch. respite of solid seats on fresh-cut tread and rocky ground. bees and skeeters, sometimes a butterfly buzz or skim towards sweet-smelling sweat. bellies better, a few moments asleep to endure the heat.

what? time up! rise again, necks and backs tense as leather straps, stretch the bones, crack and gasp. bow again to golden ground as new blows land, kicking up limestone and sand.

sun hotter, breaths heavy, blows lighter. scan the line, how far we go – still further to mow - down more branches, grass, and roots below, crushing quartz into silver snow. yell “rock” before down the hill it go!

alas, day is done. plod back, lack of water, but lighter packs. gloves, goggles, hard hat finally freed, skin bleeds sweat in the afternoon heat.

reach camp, deep breaths, step barefoot through beargrass and swirling gnats. supper chopped, cooked, and crunched. bodies weary, trade stories, bits of bicker fade to wordless sighs.

slow plod under doug fir and pine to tented nests, brush off the dust. cocoon under waxing moon and milky stars, wonder after life on mars. at last, sun sleeps. we earn some rest.