labored.

work. work. work.
all work, and no play,
and just a little bit of cake,
makes for a long day indeed in the crisp and comfortable environs
of the perfectly picturesque septemberiness of the woodsly goodness.
here we are.
and although the rest of the realm around us is off today,
enjoying the idea of a just reward
for laboring all through the summer an' that,
we wanton and world-weary warriors of poetic (and prosaic) pugilism
are headed out into the work world for one more day.
it's the last of 'zaps before our weekend,
which is actually scheduled to only be one day,
and as such much more of a short one than a long one.
truncated.
abbreviated.
less-than satisfactory.
which of course just means we've got to pack as much awesome
into 24 hours as we conceivably can manage.
yeah.
like yard work.
or house work.
or gardening.
awwwwwwwwwww, man...c'mon.
chores?
really??
hard styles know no boundaries.
we're on the borders of the berserker barbarian badlands
with that kind of responsible adult activity.
i suspect a revolt against our orderly obligations by tomorrow.
if the labor of today doesn't ignite a hot fire of rebuttal and reprisal
against the rigors of work-week weak-sauce.
anything could happen,
although it usually doesn't.
we'll all have to wait, see, and be surprised together.
***********
the smell is in the air.
whiff it.
and not just the old cabbagey hot dumpster reekings
of our dog's festy butthole, either.
breathe deeply, and without worry,
because in addition to that malodorous aroma,
the pervasive purely-pleasing, refreshing, and rewarding wafts of
almost-autumn are snappy fresh and dawn's early lightening
in our collective woodsly nostrils this morning.
crisp, ninjas.
like extra blankets and undershirts.
nice.
it's labor day, for sure,
but i don't imagine i'll be working too much.
at least, not any harder,
and definitely no smarter than usual.
a pig-headed, bum's-rush, bull-in-the-china-shop,
stubborn-mule animal attack on all things obligatory.
excessive is the order of the day.
gratuitous, if you'd like.
i'm grateful for this time i have been given,
and i'll be using it to bring all the odinous thunder down
on all the doo-doo butery duders
who don't know well enough to stay home today.
labor,
like giving birth.
to a new era of woodsly goodness...
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....