This Beautiful Day

This beautiful day. Sitting in the sun. Sitting in the shade. Back and forth like a dog. 

This sound of the wind and the melancholy waves. Of the occasional passing cars. Of the peepers. This sound of acorns falling on the old cottage roof with a surprisingly loud thud, then racing down to the deck and ricocheting into the bushes. 

This light. These shadows. This blue sky with white bubbly clouds on the horizon. 

How do I go back to work tomorrow and leave this?

I’ll drag my feet on the way out the door in the morning. Maybe I’ll take the long way. When I arrive on site, I might linger with my coffee in the truck a little longer than usual. 

I love what I do. I know when I take the hammers and chisels out of their bag I’ll eventually fall back into the rhythm of the work. I’ll set a stone. And then another. And then another. 

That’s tomorrow. Right now, it’s Labor Day. A spectacular late summer day. And I’m trying to hold on to all of this. 

There goes another acorn, rushing down the roof.