eight men,
a few women,
at the crack
of dawn,
all in green vests and white
hard hats,
digging into
the street, a nice tidy
square where one man
climbs down. the trucks are lined
up along the curb.
one person waves
you forward with his sign,
another person,
holds traffic coming the other way.
it's an all-day affair.
an orchestrated
play.
the jack hammers
hammering,
the shovels and tar,
the steam roller
at the end as the sun goes
down, and the world
is almost under
the stars.
the fat lady at last singing.
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