Labor

There is no labor described as low and unworthy doing nothing man does to earn genuine living makes one a dog those who sit on rolling chairs and talk through wise gourds are brain- bees who cheer, nurture and guide worker-bees Those who scratch the stomach of the earth are honorable beings As they tickle the stomach and make the soil to smile and giggle endlessly with painful happiness for the world, they make humans to laugh with bountiful harvests and feasts The scratchers of earth’s stomach with naked phalanges sustain humans with big stomachs and smooth epidermis humans who have never dreamed of tickling the soil the ones who fear earthworms and yell on sight of caterpillars Rodents kneel and thank scratchers as they snatch and bite mouthfuls of feeds from the granaries and gardens locusts roaming skies with empty bellies and sharpened mandibles descend to scratchers’ Shambas to eat their fill to live The widow with a basket of tomatoes sitting by the roadside morning clerks with scrappers in streets and office backyards those men and women in tortoise shells at the gates of the powerful do honorable labor for the good of humanity and are nation-builders