Not Vanity: A Poem

It is not difficult to define the place that physical labour should occupy in a well-ordered social life. It should be its spiritual core. – Simone Weil

Our shovels retrieved spades full of mulch
From the heap of mulch which we worked to spread.
We worked in vapor and in our own sweat.
We could not have worked past the heat.
Sunset brought no great comfort from the Hot,
Which rocked itself and piped its mean vapors
That yolked our necks like smoked burlap rags.
I felt at play in a part I was bound
To fail. But you were yourself, a strong man.
Manual labor suited you better
Then your Sunday suits and ties or dress blues,
Though you wore both with fastidious joy.
I moved at honest speed and could never
Overtake you in your natr’l habit.
And you still hold your strength in my mem’ry.
Your strength a wellspring deeper than the grave.

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