I didn’t want to write another poem
about the building of the Tabernacle
but as with any new construction
the project is running long.
Or maybe we were just talking
about it all these weeks and now
after all the instructions have been repeated
and all the permits have been pulled
the work is finally happening.
The people are into it.
Giving far more materials
than are required to get the job done.
When does that happen?
A budget running under.
This is the kind of micromanaging
that could really make a difference.
We should make someone from
this story President of the World.
The Tabernacle, an ancient White House
for our elected leader to dwell amongst us.
We did choose this, right?
Or were we the ones chosen?
I’m going to give generously
to the point where they have to
tell me to stop. So there’s no worry
about the project getting done.
I’m going to take a day off.
That’s what they keep reminding me to do.
An instruction I expect to be repeated
for many weeks to come.