Yes, to cure a terrible disease, to dispel a disaster,
To step up as a hero, mighty in determination,
Pulling out every ounce of good from a tragic time.
This is noble. Praiseworthy.
To sew a seam,
Hoe a garden,
Catch a trout,
Fill a chalk board,
Patch a bike tire,
Make a bed,
Write a poem,
Dust a piano.
These million tasks of life,
Everyday deeds unrecorded in
The History of Labor.
Yet deep down when the task done feels good,
A delightful whistle rises between the lips
Curling past the tongue.
It comes along like memories of children
Keeping time with elves along the path.
So we celebrate the minutes that pass as days.
The stack of logs,
The fires made,
The warm baked breads,
The homes kept safe,
The comfort built by hands and hearts
In small and gentle ways.