Hard Hat Times

Yellow above the dredged-up earth. hard hats, husky men bent on constructive destruction, Brush burning, they flame throw their wands of progress. It all has to be done, done to be mended, done to be done with. Nature got too messy, it overgrew its concrete margins, it got above our work-booted aspirations. Clean-up crews sweep and press against the head-on-winds of a riotous environment. Steel, hammers the seeded mud crushing it of any taint of green. Everyone knows this is obscene, lips and ears must be temporarily closed like the bleak roads ahead and those dug over below our feet.