another day

your factory work ethic
contributes
much
to how sore you are in
the morning.
the ache
of yesterday still lingering
in each stride,
each reach of an
arm over your head
to open
a can of something
to eat.
you see a line of smoke
stacks
on the horizon
fuming blue
and grey and feel good
about that.
there is work to be done,
to be had.
this will keep you
going. keep the dog's
tail wagging,
a roof over your head,
the dream of love
within reach
for another day.