(After tunnelling through a basement
cinder block wall to insulate the exposed
water main pipe under the front porch.)
When the pipes froze in our house,
Two winters in a row,
We thank Thee that they didn’t burst
But thawed out nice and slow.
We thank Thee for the chisel
And Grampa's ball-peen hammer
And for all classic cinema
Where men dig out the slammer,
For Welsh-Midwestern shoulders
Inured to most hard knocks
That can swing a pick and shovel
Yet still slip through cinder blocks.
We thank Thee we can whistle
Which helps one to feel brave
When standing under a front porch
As in an open grave.
We thank Thee for the shovel,
Head lamp, and no splinters,
And for this heaping mound of fill
That'll last a hundred winters.
We thank Thee for the good earth’s
Through which Thou provided
Thy path to insulation.