Thankful

I'm thankful for the words
Through whom I've learned to reach
I'm thankful for the birds
Who serenade the beach

I'm grateful for the rhymes
Who give my grief a form
I'm grateful for the chimes
Who salsa through the storm

Been in your debt my song
Who hold my bursting heart
Been in your debt so long
You feel like body part

Obliged to time and age
Who tame events in space
Obliged to pen and page
Who hide and show our race

But Not to Boss

Work is a funny word.
But not to boss.
To work off debt,
it's said, you have to go to work;
where working as a clerk,
you work your way up, reach the top.
You work around the snags you come across, 
and working in the office never stop
to work away at them with all your heart, 
till your report's a flawless work of art:
Intense and smart.
But not to boss.
You work out quickly, getting set
to soon depart for work, and yet 
you end up working up a sweat.
It's funny how that works...
But not to boss.
Then there's the "work it in" to write,
which now I'm working into this outright. 
By "this" I mean my poem, song,
which, by the way, I've long
been fond of working on.
But does that count as work?
It's never work, it's said, 
but only if you do 
sincerely love the work. 
But not to boss.