Day Labor
Published in
Feb 8, 2021
As an artist, I sometimes feel
Like a day laborer
Toiling under the hot sun
On a vast estate,
Where the vineyards stretch
Out endlessly along the horizon.
There I sweat, and worry,
And wonder
What it might be like
To taste just one handful
Of those sweet fruits
That overflow the edge of my basket.
But I never bite,
Knowing full well the poison
In stealing another man’s harvest,
Waiting instead for evening to come,
When the wages of the day are paid,
Counted, collected, and saved
For the time when
The vineyard will be mine.
