You ache like ourselves,
broken body in the humid air.
This time of asking for a new
roof, furnace, garage door, what is seen
and unseen in the summer heat.
Workmen spread their tools,
sad checks and moan like pipes.
You must feel the gifts we hand you.
Even man-made nature has its vanity.
We wish you a good soul, atonement,
firm table and chairs, feasting with friends,
dry crawl space, no leaks in floors.
No less could we dream
in this face of ourselves, wood
and linoleum, that the animate world
behold and know our faults and firmities.
Be with us in our den of need,
usher these tromping workmen home.