Heart- Beat Of The Earth Poem by john (called jack) wren

Wee sleek thrower of the soil
under the ground you're made to toil
on heaps of earth we see your stamp
on meadow and wood where're you camp

In fields where shepherds gaze
in anger at your perplexing maze
I sometimes glimpse your sweet pink nose
sounding where the fresh wind blows

Men of the soil stand and swear
and vow to drive you from your lair
as pictures painted in soil are found
from the brush of the master, underground

And when the air is quiet and still
I'd swear I can hear you drill
the soil for all its worth
Sweet little heart-beat of the earth.