TO BE OF USE
The people I love best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
The rest of the poem is here.
POETRY FRIDAY is at THE HOLLY AND THE IVY.