a working sprint

[joebelknapwall]

2 solid days, 1 used and donated air conditioner, 10 sheets of T1-11 rough-cut siding, 1 roll of tarpaper, 1 roll of white aggregate fiberglass roll roofing, 6 tubes of roof sealant, 30 minutes measuring windows, 1 giant spider in the outhouse, 1800 feet down the Potomac, 2 mild cuts from snail shells, 45 minutes baking on the broad, warm stone of Cleveland Rock in the sunlight, 15 minutes up the towpath, 240 miles in a Sprinter driven by a friend who prefers not to be photographed, 2 really loud, satisfying arguments about geopolitics, 6 Nathans dogs on the grill, thirty minutes with the broom, 1 afternoon of almost nothing, and the autumn is coming—time for a roaring fire in the woodstove and a place to read a book, trains beyond counting, blue skies, huge, beautiful woodpeckers flying high, hawks wheeling slowly above the trees, all that, all that.

You stop thinking of numbers.

There is no time, only trains, only green.

Soon, some of you will know it, too.