Mine Tailings

[Photo is an aerial view of mine tailings near Green Valley, Arizona.]

Cattle grazing, barley growing,
Miners of our metal digging,
All these things we have but
Take as granted

Hogs are lazing, semis going,
Workers in the heat are swigging,
Things we know must happen:
Seeds are planted

By those urbanites despise.
So separated are we
From all or much that makes up
Our humanity

Past some mounds of dirt I’m driving:
Copper mines that once were thriving,
Maybe in my dwelling, now,
Or yours —

All of us, connected, really,
And we’d think of it, ideally,
If our minds could get beyond
Our doors

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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