As the uniforms of the last four weeks hang freely,
blowing in the light wind,
gently permeating clean crisp air through threads of traveled polyesters and alike,
I am agog at the distance my shoes have gone.

Each pair of these pants have leaned up against splintered shingles,
rusted doorways, freshly painted walls,
or sunken into posh leather love seats,
or propped up into garden benches and sturdy wooden kitchen chairs.

The cuff of each sleeve has seen the sight of my brow,
wiped between homes to clear my thoughts and words to appear fresh for the next.
The soft smoothness of rayon, Lycra and cotton combos,
Contrast to the harshness of time constraints and schedules.

Today, all has been refreshed and cleaned.
My uniforms await…