I never could do hard work

November 1, 2013  (I was 68)

I never could do hard work so I

did easy work.  Hark work had no

purposeful end for me.  Easy

work had a reason.  Something I
made would be fun later.  A place

I invented could be visited again.

Hard work felt like my life was ending.

The more I did the closer it got.

Hard work required a hiding place.

Sometimes others made hard work

harder.  They required an escape-

ownership of even a moment- two

breaths, a task at a distance.  Easy

work defined itself, made itself obvious

without mention.  Often I found myself

doing easy work with no awareness of

having begun.  The tools of easy work

are very light.  I improvised ways to

use them.  It is hard to be the cause

to produce the correct effect.  It is

easy to be the effect that wonders

at the cause.  I wonder at the cause.  

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Aquainted With The Night  by Robert Frost