Once A Proud Boy

He was one that figured some heads needed knocking, so he started right in. As things often go, his became one of the heads. Thereafter he retired to the country, raised some vegetable crops, and couldn’t kill a chicken. His collection of oddments was not immense but eclectic. The wind sun and earth’s soul spoke to him now and then. His joy was to listen. The stars churned from a thought to eternal dust. What is worth.