decade

Marriage is lengthy, attraction is short.
The transition is love, and then – what then?
It’s you and me, garrisoned in our fort.
To lie in bed or rise as two wise men.

For wisdom forges raw love, anneals it,
Sharpens it, weds it to oaken handles
Fit for daily use, gives it edge and grit,
Fills the armory, readied for battles.

And too the garden shed is ranged with tools,
Two plows, two hoes, the too hard soil to break.
Wisdom and love, tough and steady as yoked mules,
Yield us bread, where mere love gave only cake.

Love, that will not rise from bed, is soon past.
But afield, farm or battle, it will last.