There's no first stanza and maybe we should all go home,
since thinking isn't easy under any circumstances. And if
'home' is what's under construction? The work crew first
disconnects the stove, then turns up the radio. Omelets and broken
eggs, yes, but quiet and even the chips and cracks
were the script. Like the script of a one-note seasonal bird
when a chill moves over a lake. But not like the radio.
The first rule of construction? Destruction. Even the bees