sweeping

he held his broom
bristles up
to count them
to check them

to see
that they were
straight and strong

he checked
for pliability

for density

he found them
good

and he began
as he always began
in what seemed to him
a corner

a place
that seemed
logical
to begin

there is a rhythm
to sweeping well

a method
to the art

and the sound

sha

sha

is regular
is constant
in its depth of sound

and when a man
can find
that perfect pace
he can sweep
right through the hours
of night

and so he swept
from his beginning place
getting in
behind the dark

and where he swept
you could see
that he had passed that way

for each pull
of the broom
each sweep
in that rhythmic way
brought a little night
with it
left a little
day behind

as he moved along
the sun rolled in
filling every space
he had worked through

he swept

he swept
the whole dark night
away

so
that’s a job well done

so
that will hold light
for awhile

so
until another day
has passed

and when the new night
is deep and dark

when it seems
it will never end

he will take his broom
for a bristle count

a straightening check

the density

sha

and

sha

sha

sha

and

sha

he will sweep
the daylight back
again


© Frank Prem, 2017

October 2017 Poem #11: the man becomes what he always was

210218

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6 thoughts on “sweeping

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