A Work In Progress

I'm building something, perhaps
you've heard the hammer into

the late night, pounding nails,
or heard me driving screws,

or seen the small light in my
window, the yellow square

against the darkness. Maybe
you've heard the sharp teeth

of my saw cutting swiftly through
the two by fours, throwing sawdust

into the air like falling stars.
Maybe you've seen me carrying

wood, sheets of drywall up the stairs.
I'm building something here. I don't

know what, and it doesn't matter.
My plans are scattered, the blueprints

lost in the wind, like you. But it's
necessary to keep going, to build

something, something new.