A Body of Work, to Work.

A shovel of metal and wood,                                                                                                                  And built to withstand the heat of the Texas sun,                                                                                  But not the same with the flesh of its Beholder.                                                                             Digging now- breaking through the red clay crust of the Earth                                                             And reaching the potential of the soil.                                                                                                   The soil- softer, more delicate than clay,                                                                                             And yet the shovel's steel remains firm, the backbone of this worker,                                                    Although the soil of his soul is also hidden-                                                                                               Behind the fleshy red clay, his dreams of being his own boss,                                                               Of owning his own business, no longer slaving away for somebody else.                                           Yes, this human shovel longs to be in charge of the clay and soil.                                                            His skin burned, sore, the worker can only savor his dream for success-                                            For his skin is not built to withstand the heat of the Texas sun.