JOHN A. GOODNER
Wire & Men
Damn that wire; Rolls of steel;
It boxed off the land; It stole its feel.
There was a time when men could ride
Across a virgin nation,
And camp at night; Beneath starlight,
Poured down from the constellations.
The land was wild and open for all.
A man could set his direction.
He could mount his mare and go anywhere.
His bedroll was his camp's erection.
But there were more men with saws and plows
Who were set on country carving,
Than the wandering men who rode off again
With broke hearts and souls a'starving.
They got fenced in; those men all alone,
Who respected and admired a land
They're gone for good; And where they stood,
Has been checkered with barb and strand.
Damn that wire; Rolls of steel;
It boxed off the land; It stole its feel.
© 2002, John Goodner
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