dog days

it's too hot,
but we go at it.
arms
pulling, pushing. our
legs climbing.
we work
in the heat, the air
still without a breeze.
we are wet,
soaked to the bone
with sweat.
covered in paint,
the debris of sanding,
scraping.
we cough and bend
to the weight
our bodies.
we look at the clock,
we suck down
water.
it's an oven of a day.
but we
make it through.
relieved by a setting
sun,
a night approaching
and the home
that awaits.