Man's Burden
I barely feel the autumn chill,
as all around me sawdust spills,
my tiny daughter up the hill
waves down, as little children will.
The trees down here have only grown,
blocked out the view we long have known,
by nature’s chaos they were sown
amidst the scattered rocks and stones.
So I cut like those long before,
to see this small vista restored,
it always seems there’s one task more,
to keep the damn wolves from the door.
I want to rest, oh yes, I do,
but time waits not for men, it’s true,
and I’d leave something good for you,
that I and those before me knew…
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2024
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