YET UNDONE | DanielWShegrud

YET UNDONE

by Daniel W. Shegrud

My lawn lies short in serried row, its edges neat and trim

The desperate weed denied its head, the shrub its errant stem

Across the green my garden strains to kiss the morning sky

With fruit-filled branch and dew-specked leaf it seeks the sun's reply

Then, satisfied, I view my yard, recalling what had been

And yet my work remains undone

For all will grow again

My kitchen sink is empty now, the counters bare and clean

The trail of tile between the rooms is boastful of its sheen

The carpet, with its Berber wings that stretch from wall to wall

Is gleaned of crumb and dirt and thread and ready for my sprawl

Then, satisfied, I view my home, delighting in the peace

And yet my work remains undone

For chaos cannot cease

My carriage sports a crystal coat of rich carnauba wax

The elbow grease that placed it there restores the pride it lacks

And such a fine conveyance needs a fitting place to dwell

And so I set to cleaning out my carriage house as well

Then, satisfied, I view my car, approving the display

And yet my work remains undone

For polish fades away

It seems, at times, a pointless task to weed and rake and mow

To sweep and vacuum, wash and dry to make the carriage glow

It seems that once a chore is done then done it ought to stay!

And yet how dull my life would be if all I did was play

Then, pondering, I catch a glint of providential plan

How empty every day would be were I an idle man

If once a job was done and done and never came again

Then what would keep my idle hands from tinkering with sin?

If every job stayed done and done, if no task needed me

Then what would be the point of life? What purpose would there be?

The task that makes demands of me in repetitious rhyme

Is meant to mold my character and not to waste my time

Then, satisfied, I view my life, surprising me because

As yet my work remains undone

And I thank God it does