Working man

Dust inhaled by necessity,
Muscles strain to bare this load.
The air is thick with purpose,
With mindful lists to do.

Hands crack under the caustic strain,
Old mortar burning into the blisters.
Teeth clench to practice stoicism,
unwilling to let pain slow the pace.

Rock and stone slated to usefulness,
a heavy back bends to the floor.
Eyes adjust to the rough scene,
sizing up each and every piece.

on a field of broken glass,
i set my heart with a tiler's ease.