Free roaming scientists

When the lab is closed
The rules relax
And your hands rest.
You can follow your hunger
And do the alcohol.
There controlled world is far,
Time is a new canvas.

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Tired hands

Refill these hands

That worked hard and bled today

To add beauty and respect

To old clothes.

Hands not smooth and not shy

That travel quick through the stitches

And join the borders of a hot Sunday.

Give them water, a shake, and a rest

In your lap

Until fresh again.

What is

The answer to your shaking
Sits patiently hidden
at the bottom of those drawers
Or in the farther of the thoughts.
You have attended all tasks in sight for today
But cannot sit still and breathe.
Running in the wheel and digging
The missing piece emerges
With what has to be done
To feel worthy and complete for today.