There is no satisfaction in
the pushing of the pen
helping to make money
for the suited men
For years my soft hands
and mind served these fools
before I found my true love
was wielding power tools
The whine of the bandsaw
the smell of fresh cut wood
the sweat leaking from me
felt equally as good
Pavilions and pergolas were
created with my hands
solid and enduring on
life’s shifting sands
No more presentations
of sales graphs and trends
running things up the flagpole
as a means to an end
My tangible constructions
rise up from the earth
spreadsheets are forgotten
I’ve found a new sense of worth
Stephen A. Roberts
