two days (and you still haven’t put up the tomatoes)

When you’ve shredded five zucchini,
for sixteen loaves of bread,

When you’ve wrestled the machine
to snake the clot you dread,

When you’ve folded all the laundry,
graded papers, sighed and read,

When you’ve dusted all the shelves
and through lone hours, bled,

When you’ve walked the limping dog,
changed the sheets of your sweet bed,

rest in it.


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