the angel dancing on the head of a pin

Sweet face of an Angel

It’s the minutia-
bits of things that must be done
over and over and over
and over again.

I’m no Sisyphus,
pushing that same boulder
up the hill
the same way
everyday.

Well, maybe I am.

What would I do without that stone?
Pushing it with all my strength
until at last,
at the end of the day,
I watch it roll down again
as the sun sets scarlet on the western ridge
and I pour that first glass of red wine.

*** Twelve Days of Angels, Day Three