The Building of the Road

The earth lay fallow, knowing no road.
Knowing the loaming but knowing no anger.
One quiet morning in daylight's glowing,
Engines rev dark clouds to clog
This meadow of clover to shelter a muse.
No concern to the engineer.

Long before the engineer
Were late-night meetings about the road.
"Yes" and "No" did not amuse
The local folks' rising anger.
The road, they said, would surely clog
A vista of cool evenings glowing

Traffic noises, brake lights glowing,
All because one engineer
Assumed that streetlights would not clog
A naturally peaceful country road.
Notwithstanding the townsfolks' anger
The council members chose to amus

The powers-that-be, and they to amuse
Those with money, with reports glowing,
With statistics showing no adverse anger
From detailed designs of the engineer.
The county says we must build this road
To relieve the other roads that seem to clo

During heavy travel in hours that clog
The city commute. Quiet valleys amuse
At the logic. The idea of putting a road
Through this landscape of hillsides glowing
With light is the vision of an engineer
Who doesn't understand the loss and anger

The road be damned! in cry and anger,
Solitude's veins begin to clog
As the artful, resolute engineer,
Who dreamed a dream at his amuse,
Watched dozers, graders, engines glowing,
Heading out to build a road

The townsfolk watching did not amuse
As canopy of night came glowing,
While they watched the building of the road.