« The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shadows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real. »