SCREENS
A yearly ritual
Absurd in its regularity
So ingrained as to
Never think of
Something better
Every spring dig them out
From everything else
You piled there afterwards
Clean the spider webs
Paint carry out get the ladder
Forget the right screw driver
Enlist the help of me the kid
I make it easier but
No suggestions please
And screw them into
The worn holes with the
Same screws used last year
It’s not the screens at all
It’s the ritual the every Spring
Attachment to the seasons
Up here in the north at least
I drift off. thinking about
Connections to life generations ago
Cultures before screens
Farming and hunting gathering wood
Cleaning the ice house readying the hay
Back to when we first started
To store food rather than searching
The ground and trees every day
What was it like did they think
Like me about the absurdity
Of the way it was done
Over and over look for a better way
Is that how we evolved
Helping our father skin the beast
Hang it up to dry
What did that kid dream about
Then he’s looking at me
Catching me bringing me
Back to reality
