My Labor Day sonnet, “The Work of Love,” is published in today’s News and Observer on the Book Page. That’s great and I’m grateful. But they still can’t get the formating right for the online version — yuck.
Should look like this:
The Work of Love
The work of love is not the love of work.
Work will not make you free. Take it from me.
I could drone on for years; did for thirty.
Love should not hide but labor should be shirked.
Does a leashed dog appreciate the jerk
At the other end? Call it family,
A team, and the tyrant boss “our Daddy”
As if his abuse was a petty perk?
But when our own desire controls our hearts
And says: “Work must be done again.” “Begin.”,
We put on worn jeans, caps, and sweat-stiff gloves —
Preparations, ways to delay our start –.
So much before us seems immense — just then
The love of work becomes the work of love.