Roofers

when the roofers
start climbing all over your home
on a saturday morning,
rousing you from what may be
the last sleep you’ll ever have,
you will fight to hang on
to the good dream you were having.

you will roll over
and cast a protective arm upon
the one beside you, believing
(in spite of all that evidence to the contrary)
that it’s worthwhile to make the roof sound again
for you and yours alone,
worth
taking the time
to hang on.

the noise of destruction,
of shingles slapping the driveway,
will be promise enough
that you’ll make it
through the winter;

that you’ll live
to enjoy
warmer rooms

and to appreciate
the trouble you’ve taken
to fix what is broken.