Its been one of those days
Your Mother warned you about.
Not frustrating
Not annoying
Just
Long
and
An exercise for
For patience.
Like an old boss who
Wanted everything done
12 hours ago
But cheap.
The job was interesting,
And sharing with
"The morning Lady"
Had its problems and its fun.
Trying to decipher instructions
From the four letter words had its moments
But was still the best of the jobs on a long
CV
Pruned to "perfection"
As we all did in those days.
I don't look back often,
And then  with a fondness
That even I  did not appreciate those
Good times until past.
Now even if not so far away
I smile at the memories of working with the majority
Of those men.
Artisans but skilled to  the "nth" degree that
I really envied them Their opportunity to perform
The jobs they did with evident enjoyment,
And with an ease
That didn't need frowns,
And
The irregular turning off of the alarm, to get them through
Their need to turn over and pull bedclothes around them
Like a windproof collar,
Protecting them from the frosts of even a
Summers day.
On this Summers days' end
I'm so glad
The frosts seem warmer, and the drizzle
Softer
Unlike those even
Older and sharper days I seem to remember
Am I the only one who looks back fondly to the future?