mid-day poem, October 5, 2016

 

 

What happens in mid-day when the offices and factories,

schools and market floors are filled with almost all of those

souls who are able and others who are not are housebound

This: the old roads are empty and quiet as a light breeze

and the yellow sunlight paints the treetops in the clear air

The only traffic is utility vans and pickups with ladder racks.

Here and there a lineman or someone working in a manhole

reminds me of how complicated and fragile this thing

We call “infrastructure” really is.  These are men –

We’ve almost forgotten about them –

Who actually like the work they do and could not imagine spending all day inside

Their world of hard hats, heavy gloves and wrenches that fit is romantic now

They are the new cowboys

 

 

 

copyright 2016