Sunday, March 26, 2006

Andy, the farm hand

Today I talked to Andy, the farm hand.
Mid-fities, slim, front teeth chipped,
Hornets basket-ball cap on his head,
Face wrinked like dry desert dates.

He was in Wrangler jeans,
Angus Farms embossed his shirt.
“Why do you carry so many keys, Andy,
dangling from your belt?” I asked.

“I have a key to every room,
every barn in the farm.
my boss trusts me even for a stalk of hay
and he is so smart he can make

a buck out of a half-penny,” said he.
Andy hauls heifers from the farm
to the local stock yard every month,
about twenty in a truck load.

Each head sells for about
four to five hundred bucks
and thus it brings home
about a thousand bucks

he deciphered this figure
squinting his eyes,
scratching his head.
“Wow, really!” I said.

“Yes, my boss is very smart,
he can make a buck
out of a half-penny.” he said,
smilingly again sheepishly.

“ I am blessed. I love my job,
my boss and my family.
I want not much in life.”
he went on to say. “You are a
happy man, Andie.” I told him smilingly.

He reaffirmed my faith:
Living not wanting is happiness.
Not screwing your head is happiness.
Throwing you worries to the winds is happiness.
Happiness is when you do not look for happiness.

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