This is a ripoff of a poem titled “IX”by Wendell Berry,
from Leavings. © Counterpoint Press, 2010.
From time to time I visit the house where once
I had surrounded it with scaffolding
and began to rebuild it piece by piece
To the casual observer it now looks about as it did before I began
For the house it is time to move on
and for that it must be ripped from my hands and set on another path
And I think of all the effort
I have wasted and all the time,
and of how much joy I took
in that work that is no longer mine
and how much it taught me.
For in the loss I learned something of my place,
something of myself, and now
the scaffolding is gone