The painters are working outside
beneath the oaks.
French doors on saw horses
being brought back to life.
Mildew scraped from the grooves,
damage from rain and sun sanded smooth.
It has the festive nature of a Martha
Stewart gathering in the grove.
And fills me with as much excitement.
Hope, and remembering what my life was
and might be again, all that has eluded me
that might yet be attained.