The power saw is screeching,
Interrupting every thought.
I’m sending silent messages,
Which all add up to naught.
Of course, the neighbors have a right
To work around the house,
The same way I’m entitled
To both seethe inside and grouse.
A quiet Sunday afternoon
Was what I’d hoped to get.
Instead, my peace disturbed,
I grit my teeth and moan and fret.
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