I sat up late
one night
looking down into
the window
of a tailor

He laboured quietly
under the dull light
of a lantern

His face was
a study of focus
and peace

He saw not the hours
and heard not
the noises from the street

His one master
was duty;
and in it he was
at one with himself

No need to ask him
his wage or his profit;
these came effortlessly

He stopped for a second,
looked up
as if to remember something,
then quietly
went back to his work