Workers

Here, as I keep vigil with you
   at your last labor
   at the threshold of Eternity,
Quiet, asleep, eyes open, closed again,
I watch the river out the window:
   A young man shovels the mud
   left from the rain-soaked Nor'easter.
He shovels it and tosses mud and debris into his truck.
He brushes to clear the remains on the walkway:
Real work. Needful work.
Just as your work now is needful
With Peace and Honor at the end.

©2010, John A. Mills