weekendering.

finally,
the workday is done;
nay, my ninjas,
the workweek is finished.
and my work therein,
y'know, at work, is done, too.
now the real work gets underway...
really realness is just as hard a style as laboring
and languishing at a place of parlance and purveyance.
there is concrete correlation between gettin' rad
with pure uncut expertism,
and going to bed feelin' spent and spanned.
just sayin', neighbors-
the Folk Life freshness takes serious sweat equity.
...but it's totally worth it.
-
active participation is what's happening.
every watered, pampered, pruned, plucked and preened plant;
every sawn plank, split log, burnt brushpile;
every carefully considered meal,
and conversely every crazily consumed glutton-fest;
every evening,
every morning,
from Tea aNd Toast,
to family dinner,
to pre-sleep reading;
it's all happening.
the motions are like poetry, right?
warrior poetry.
hard times, long nights, and each and every moment in-between.
making minutes matter more.
i've said it a lot along these years,
but it's no less true for the repetition.
the object is always more.
more of this.
a better fate than death awaits us anywhere an' that.
but it's the little things that make it go to eleven.
example:

c'mon.
a possessive apostrophe?
not just a combat commander, mutha-uckas,
but COLT's.
that's that luxury hottness.
a punctuation-type little thing y'all,
but such a big chunk of acknowledged accountability.
that's active participation.
like i said.
it's theirs,
and now it's mine, too.
albie's & COLT's combat commander.
every single thing,
every single time.
spent and spanned;
never quiet, never soft.....