Rain
to work in it?
A statue falls
the hammer hit
harder than
the artist knew.
Attention paid
to what we do
with dollars saved
for rainy days
is no safe bet
against the blues
of getting wet.
Inside or out
no will is sure
of itself or if
another force
will follow this
rain of sweat
on fingertips:
large drops slip
down the print
and lube calluses
making headway
impossible
on figures formed
outside the church
long demolished
by time, by storm
stress and neglect.
The chisel chips
no end in sight
leaves misshapen
what could be right.
Changes come
torrentially
down on earth
and our workdays.
Is creation wet
as all eyes drip?
A moment's mood
of happiness
blinds the fool
perched on a stool
sculpting himself
a storm's likeness:
a hell of blows
and a rainbow.
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