American Pylons Poem By Kevin Durkin
Spreading their legs between the rows,
of stubble wheat or corn,
they stand their ground against the lash
and icy sting of storms.
While all the country lies asleep,
they brace beneath cold stars,
gripping their buzzing cables, stiff
and faithful in the dark.
When light returns, their ribs allow
blown leaves an easy passage
while they convey, without a pause,
all power and no message.
Happy Wednesday Wishes & Messages…