The Canal
dug a hundred years or more ago,
a fountain of life,
straight the canal bed,
bringing water to weary and dry farms,
allowing life to grow away from the river,
in the rich sandy loam,
thanks should be prayed each day,
and every night,
to the men who dug the canal,
with the future in mind,
but now the pivots have taken its place,
an outdated relic from the past,
where young boys can play,
and catch toads and crawdads,
and dream about the days of yon.
Douglas Polk
No comments:
Post a Comment