hoagies in the hands of the work crew

the neighborhood

is full

of trucks

and back hoes,

diggers of all sorts,

jack hammers, throngs

of green

vested men

with white helmets,

shovels

in hand,

signs

saying slow

or stop,

road narrows.

Washington Gas.

for three weeks now

they've been at it.

they wave

politely

as you drive by.

throwing metal plates

over the ditches

so that you don't fall in.

they seem

happy to be working, even

in the cold,

this November wind.

i wait for noon to leave

my house,

their lunch hour,

the road cleared while

to their sandwiches

they go.