Today's poem is by Jim Daniels

Sawdust
       

I think of Jesus as a carpenter,
sawdust fluff at his feet, soft smell
of getting it down: four walls and a door.

People leave him to it, not bothering
the Son of God, not writing down
the sweet buzz of his humming.

I'm not a true believer, but since it's all
on faith, why not wander off that way now
and then, trick the soul's compass to point

True North? Orient yourself to your own
version of whistling in the dark. Sync it
with humming Jesus.

The back and forth of the saw,
the ordinary sweat of creation.

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Copyright © 2023 Jim Daniels All rights reserved
from Presence: A Journal of Catholic Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission