He thought to take his place

among the greats

this man

windswept

riding a tractor

coloring a mosaic

of his existence

with blunt broken crayons

waxed tightly to a box

of petty dreams,

dreams of his own making

at war

with plans according to rules

not of his design

but by acclimation

within parameters

life casts for us all,

he made a deal with himself:

To love his little space

and to think of it only

as a king might –

destined to enjoy the fruit

of labor, even

from coerced hands –

by grudge or by valor,

what does it matter

so long as he commands himself

to work and to envy himself

as if everyone expects nothing less

as if he desires nothing more.