If there’s no job, there’s work to do
Opening doors, sweeping  drifted chaff from the deck
Putting nail to wood, pen to paper, building character
While the sky mutters obscene comments and outbursts
Hidden messes that never want to be cleared
Emotional dust bunnies
Home too long, the luster begins to disappear
Like the look of the finish found on an older car
Bright, too bright
The flaws scream and nag
Prayers seem general and never consider the situation
Hard to reward progress when you’re looking at the in file
The struggle for perspective is only two steps back
Behind a doorway that you didn’t want to cross
Pray for this, pray for that
Grab a broom and get busy
I’ve said that home is a refuge, a reward, a right, a prison, a thought
And I was right
I’m ready to leave
But is all that needs to be done been faced?

I could hide in someone else’s pain
Settle for less than what I  want
Begin to understand “needs”
But there is work to do
Before the job comes.