My Favorite Day of Work

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There was a promise on mornings

we saw his cowboy boots out,


That evening Dad would bring us

four smooth, reddish stones


He’d been walking the land, building in his mind

maps of courses yet to built


things he’d draw with pens of green, blue and yellow,

“It’s my favorite day of work” he’d say


and we believed him, heart and soul.


Today, I get to walk the land, find the thread colored magic

in my book yet to built


marking my trail with crayons of green, blue and yellow,

while keeping my eye out


for three of the smoothest stones. 

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