In anticipation, crude kettles boil - waiting for masters to cease to toil. Steadily their excitement mounts and bubbles bubble in furious founts. Then, bellowing like a bell, from the sudden silence you can tell: you can hear it's lunchtime on a building site - there descends a stillness, like dead of night. A startling contrast to drills that drone and the concrete mixer's monotonous moan, this almost eerie lack of sound brings upon me a feeling profound. A frenzy of tools that once ran riot now observe a ritual quiet, as labourers lay them down to rest and take to hand meals to digest. Nothing fancy, just bread 'n butter - with food-filled mouths they munch 'n mutter. The occasional joke sets bread crumbs free and incontinent mouths spray bad coffee. Then, when contented bellies bulge from the fuel in which they indulge, the men, for the balance of their break, in a raucous football match partake. Amongst builder's rubble and half buried trash, in a makeshift field handful-teams clash. With bricks as goal posts, tin can as ball, they engage like children in a playful brawl. Completely lost to all cares of the day, yelling at the top of their lungs as they play. And, from their joyous screams of delight, you can hear it's lunchtime on the building site. But this game which started so amicably mute quite soon erupts into a clamorous dispute as self-appointed referees award contentious penalties. Insults and accusations fly as fingers point and tempers run high. Some rather tense moments erupt, but then, the calm's return is as abrupt. So, these children within men play on and goals are lost and points are won, and heros are made of humble men, the victors triumph and gloat, and then... ...no sooner to their game returned, then ends this break they so well earned. A car horn like final whistle blows, and thus sadly marks the curtains' close. And, as if someone had switched a switch, site work suddenly resumes its pitch, as frantic tools whine at such pace to try meet deadlines that they chase. Immersed once more in all cares of the day, and exacted from them the price for pay. From hushed laughter is heard their plight, it's no longer lunchtime on the building site. |