The Parting of the Green
The road winds, black and long, across the field.
Fellow travelers merging as traffic flows,
the freedom gained by linkage seems unreal
across the world on rivers others go.
No beaten paths are worn where jungles grow.
A freedom gained by movement, we’ve achieved.
Others wait in poverty unrelieved.
They can not rise and leave, if they so please,
trapped are they in isolation, they grieve.
Roads, good roadways are sought for their release.
Oh, to have a road that winds to market,
or, to run down when the wars come too near.
A paved lane, a street, we dearly covet
a way to reach our neighbors once made clear,
a safety value when things are most dire.
So, let man tame the jungle wide and green
the mountaintops and rivers in between,
let all mankind be so very blessed
to have good roads, not dead end might of beens
which join us all, as village greens acessed.
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