another work related poem

last poem written in Dec. 92. Just a reminder to myself, don't forget to get back to the papermill in the morning .......




WEYCO POEM FOR DENNY LONG

1
a light frost clings to broken beams
that were once sites of steady employment

i watch two shabby crows pick at the rotted timbers
believing yet in the american dream
wondering if it is fate or effort
that speaks the distinct language of success

gaze for a moment into uncertain skies
& then turn around to the sound of the paper making machines
questioning how long these can continue
to produce magic

2
the sound of the river
adorned by a blue heron
the whisper of thickets
housing night creatures
the jingle of loose change
in a once empty pocket
the laughter of comrades
in a world struggling for the ideal
the ability to pursue dreams

3
gospels are written in eyes & hands
are spoken with action

we celebrate in union
(sometimes less than holy)
an attainment
of common dreams
(in theory at least)

set goals that require
the best we can offer
until the plug is pulled
by someone who has never
soiled his hands
from tanks of overflowed pulp