A Good Day

Today was a good day

Of sorts, a day of

Working with hands, of

Fashioning timber, creating

From detritus.

There's a time when we

Should set aside the

Book, the pen and

Take up the tools of

Manual labour.

Put physical energy in

To something that does not

Yet exist and yet will

In physical form to

Touch and hold.

It was a good day

A quiet day, I feel

Still unresolved, sense

That sense of something wrong

Something off.

Maybe I am for another

Time, plagued by future

Memories that see this

All unravel, again, and

Me alone again.