Labor of Love
Rushing to finish
concrete before it sets
on a hot, dry August morning,
the drone of the cement mixer
laboring to turn out a single concrete pad.
Twelve feet by twenty,
a terrace on the side of the pavilion
we built the year before,
a place for family gatherings, reunions.
One more draw
for that long drive to visit
your retirement home in the country.
To see you and hear the joy
and laughter of those gatherings.
Our last visit thirty years in the past,
that pavilion still stands,
children, in the home
that once was yours.
If I were to go now, I know
I would hear the same laughter,
the faint ring of hammers,
the drone of that mixer,
and know that I still miss you.
The optional prompt for Day 4 of National/Global Poetry Writing Month is to write a poem that is “about something abstract – perhaps an ideal like ‘beauty’ or ‘justice,’ but which discusses or describes that abstraction in the form of relentlessly concrete nouns and adjectives.” This definitely has concrete!