06 August 2007


once was a stream that down the valley ran
now choked with concrete and filled in with soil
still there are signs of natures unhelped toil
throughout the day we distant prospects scan
for what might be under some hoped-for ban
a place far from the normal human coil
of pains and troubles harsh noises and broils
untouched as yet by the hard foot of man
steams rise and swirl above the heated earth
we walk outside and cook in the great heat
but cannot pause or speak of lacking zest
for all the things that we must bring to birth
each of us listens for the great wings' beat
and hopes that we will not yet have to rest

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