Uncharted Courses
Sixty thousand pounds
One hundred sixty horses
Snorting like leviathan
On uncharted courses
Eleven feet of width
Thirty-two of reach
Tank-like tracks that crush the rock
With a metallic screech
Carving up the hillside
With the greatest ease
Playing toss with boulders
Plucking up huge trees
A tree that falls is heard
Some even make a sigh
A sound that makes me wince
I will not tell a lie
Progress can be brutal
On nature, we intrude
We like to make an entrance
Loud and brash and rude
I tell myself the openings
Make room for trees to grow
Or so I justify;
I’m pretty good, you know
Deftly flicking boulders
Smoothing out the dirt
Yard by yard he moves along
Master craft at work
It’s not for the timid
Or the faint of heart
Carving trails on mountainsides
Truly is an art
We’ve started every morning
Briefly, with a prayer
For Shawn and for his safety
And for God’s presence there
Hard to juxtapose
Stewardship, dominion:
The beauty there down in the vale,
Diesel-powered pinions
In time, the forest will forget
And cover up our scars
For now, I walk His wooded trail
At night, beneath His stars.
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment