And while the moon passes in front of the sun
And thousands tilt their heads 
And stare with their black opaque eyes

On my neighbor’s roof 
the men with hammers continue
tapping tapping

Across the pond
 a lawnmower growls into life
ruthless with the spring

And at my poolside 
the men with their long brushes
Sweep the walls slowly steadily

The light dims, the day cools
but the hammers tap tap tap

(with some apologies to William Carlos Williams)

Kristin Moyer
April 2024