There they sit—
two of them
huddled holding flashlights,
murmuring over the squeaking
of wrenches.
One stands,
eyes cast upward,
basking in the flood,
perched lightly on
the marked floor.
One sits
curled up
hunched over a glowing board
clawing at a roll
of tape.
Nocturnal,
they huddle,
eyes adjusted to the dark.
Amid the hiss of LEDs,
and the weak chirp
of the old wooden floors
they pad along:
Silent workers in the night.