The gardener

He waddles with boots to his knees, a man of whale like girth
He steps as if blown by the breeze, a disposition of sunshine mirth
As dependable as the sun risen from hillside bed
His shadow's length shrinks as day does run, until sky and skin are red
Fingers tobacco stained, in his pocket a cigarette rolled in a corn husk
From his brow sweat rained, hanging from his lip a smoking glow til dusk