Playing
With Trucks
Feb 24 2014
Dump trucks
that run with gravel, summer long
are hauling hard-packed snow.
To empty fields
on country roads,
working quarries
of sand and stone.
That are eerily still
until the soil thaws.
And bring to mind
Dump trucks
that run with gravel, summer long
are hauling hard-packed snow.
To empty fields
on country roads,
working quarries
of sand and stone.
That are eerily still
until the soil thaws.
And bring to mind
an ominous post-apocalypse --
heavy machinery
heavy machinery
brown with rust, immobilized,
and broken ground,
barren, white
no sign of life.
They shuttle to and from
city streets.
Where front-end loaders
belch diesel smoke.
Where blue lights blink
and back-up beepers, urgently keen,
even louder
in cold night air.
Where they shake themselves free
with a mighty clash
and broken ground,
barren, white
no sign of life.
They shuttle to and from
city streets.
Where front-end loaders
belch diesel smoke.
Where blue lights blink
and back-up beepers, urgently keen,
even louder
in cold night air.
Where they shake themselves free
with a mighty clash
of steel-on-steel,
the shriek
of big black diesels
straining hard.
Under harsh illumination,
as starkly white
as a moon colony, in airless light,
men and machines
in some bleak lunar dystopia.
How the streets are cleaned
as the rest of us sleep,
mountains of snow
methodically cleared,
frozen pavement
scraped bare.
How unliveable
winter would be
without oil and steel.
Without men
who are willing to freeze
in early morning darkness, the shriek
of big black diesels
straining hard.
Under harsh illumination,
as starkly white
as a moon colony, in airless light,
men and machines
in some bleak lunar dystopia.
How the streets are cleaned
as the rest of us sleep,
mountains of snow
methodically cleared,
frozen pavement
scraped bare.
How unliveable
winter would be
without oil and steel.
Without men
who are willing to freeze
jockeying big diesel trucks
great yellow machines.
Every sleeping boy's
dream job.
I often walk the dog very late at night. Not just that we're nighthawks (me, anyway), but that the streets are quiet and she can go more safely off-leash. Except it's not always so quiet. On winter nights, we will encounter these localized hives of activity, full of loud noises and big machinery and eerie light. And running up and down the highway, at ungodly hours, we'll encounter big dump trucks shuttling to and fro; even though all the quarries have long been closed for the season.
In a winter like this, I'm running out of room to put all the snow from shovelling the driveway. And the mountains of snow the city ploughs have piled up? This is where it goes, under cover of dark.
A couple of weeks ago, there were 2 inches of snow in the southern US. (Admittedly, pretty icy snow). Whole cities and states were paralyzed, the freeways littered with abandoned and dented cars. While here, the biggest storm is seamlessly cleared by morning: we are prepared with lots of salt and sand and snowploughs and experience. So we looked on amusingly, secure in our smugness. But without fossil fuel, life here would become impossible -- overnight! The interdependence of a complex system, our dependence on the thin thread of a long supply chain, is all that separates our smug efficiency from those scenes of mayhem. Not to mention the high cost in CO2 emissions behind our standard of living, the comfort we take for granted, the luxury of being able to live in this beautiful northern landscape.
great yellow machines.
Every sleeping boy's
dream job.
I often walk the dog very late at night. Not just that we're nighthawks (me, anyway), but that the streets are quiet and she can go more safely off-leash. Except it's not always so quiet. On winter nights, we will encounter these localized hives of activity, full of loud noises and big machinery and eerie light. And running up and down the highway, at ungodly hours, we'll encounter big dump trucks shuttling to and fro; even though all the quarries have long been closed for the season.
In a winter like this, I'm running out of room to put all the snow from shovelling the driveway. And the mountains of snow the city ploughs have piled up? This is where it goes, under cover of dark.
A couple of weeks ago, there were 2 inches of snow in the southern US. (Admittedly, pretty icy snow). Whole cities and states were paralyzed, the freeways littered with abandoned and dented cars. While here, the biggest storm is seamlessly cleared by morning: we are prepared with lots of salt and sand and snowploughs and experience. So we looked on amusingly, secure in our smugness. But without fossil fuel, life here would become impossible -- overnight! The interdependence of a complex system, our dependence on the thin thread of a long supply chain, is all that separates our smug efficiency from those scenes of mayhem. Not to mention the high cost in CO2 emissions behind our standard of living, the comfort we take for granted, the luxury of being able to live in this beautiful northern landscape.
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