Mower Shed

it is quiet there--
because you're with God.
i don't mean you can't hear anything
like the stillness of tears when nothing else matters-
it is quiet there.

A whistle as the wind pierces
rotting wood walls
Rasing the hair of our forearms
a shiver, but not of cold
The smell of work hangs heavy
oil and gasoline
grass and grease
We are talking, but not to each other
Words ride the quiet
and disappear
Water pours from the sky
runs off the roof
and pools among the gravel.
Bones are cold
beaneath our layers
Heavy breathing fills the shed with fog
Our machines are outside
waiting for us
A day of work
waits for us
It is quiet there-
because God is there.
I push the door open
step into falling water
I am soaked in three steps.
Hair clinging to my face
as I push out toward the lawns.
They all say we have the worst job
But we are the most happy.