By Amanda Lewanski | STC Senior Member
Arise, my soul, and once more sit thee down
To polish others’ words and burnish bright
Their messages that hint or hide or drown,
As if you had not done so half the night.
These folk are brilliant thinkers in their fields
And cut the edge of research many ways,
Yet oft their writing but confusion yields,
And thus awards and projects meet delays.
Some seek me out and humbly beg my time;
Some come to me a-snarl at being sent.
Most, certain that their work is pure, sublime —
Few understand my effort’s full extent.
But yet the end will see ill feelings mended,
For lo! Words clear and strong as they intended.