Poetry

The Janitor’s Duty

To make people happy

I sweep their

troubles out of the

grain

and mop the floor they

walk on to a shine.

Daily Routine

With a broom, as if it were

a brush, I paint the

floors

as if they were heavenly

blue

my work of art

so people may enjoy their

walk.

The Broom

The spirit of the broom

is how I take

the handle—

says the janitor

like the golden straw

the very red thread of

it.

Morning Time Sings

At first, the tiny bird

with

deep

blue

feathers

and the downy orange

breast—till perched in

the sky.