Progress
In the fields
the pylons march
like futuristic giants
their wires bristling
and ready to spark
with power
and domination
offering no haven.
In the streets
the poles stand,
bees buzzing
in the shelter
of their wires.
Their trunks
stand still
wooden,
statuesque,
hoping
to stay
unnoticed
as their wires rust
with flakes falling
like autumn leaves.
Soon both will
have to go
underground.

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