each to his own work

each to his own job
in life.
shuffling papers, or
nailing
boards, listening to
the sick
giving advice.
answering phones,
sweeping floor,
or baking bread.
each to his work
in the world.
having found a way
to make a living, to
survive.
some have joy, while
others it's a slow
ride, a painfully
long day that never ends.
tied to their phones
all night, into
the weekend.
how lucky are those
that savor the hours,
that have found a way
to live, to work
and find love.
it's rare, but oh so
wonderful life.