Sweat and Dust

She was a silhouette at first, black jeans and tank top. Surrounded by sawdust. The golden light realized then, into sun-bronzed skin and straw colored hair. Sweat glistened on her muscles, hiding in shadow then rising as she worked.
The sander ate at the top of the sign, shaving splintered pine and throwing it up into the air around her. Sawdust stuck to her sweat.
Strong shoulders bunching and extending, push, pull, coil, uncoil, Braced, legs apart, pushing into the sander from the knees, up rigid thighs, through firm shapely hips.
Sweat sticking black fabric to her firm and narrowed middle, half up in the back. Sweat glistening in the hollow of her spine. It runs off her shoulders and collar bones too, like sap. Liquid amber of the sun itself, reflecting light off her yellow hair as it descends into shadowed hollows beneath the neck line, a vain attempt at carrying the sunsets dying idolatry into another glorious resting.