Above the Dirt
passed a Mexican man
on my way to Pasadena
in a glance
his life
no “parade of roses”
he swung his shovel high
like a golfer
in full swing
far from the green
his boots ditch deep
he seemed to see
not trees nor traffic
so spent on digging
out the dirt was he
took no notice of the time
how the sun sat fat
upon his shoulders
the luxuries of life
not his to waste
for he knows
he can be replaced
so he swings his shovel high
it’s “do or die”
TL