Abundant earth our God has given some in sight and some well hidden.
Beneath the streets that run through cities, towns and farms and pastures plenty.
Rolling hills and mountains high, ocean floors and desserts wide. Beneath it all left unseen, lay the veins that fuel the dreams.
They work the soil, weld the steel, bend the pipe to fit the hills. Lay it down along the way suture the wound so it will stay. In time the earth puts on her makeup, no sign of man or pipe remain. Another mile has come and gone, another mile to carry on.
In scorching heat or freezing rain, snow and wind it’s all the same. The job gets done both day and night, tough souls are these that choose this life. Conversations turn to home, many loved ones left alone.
The welder stands with hood raised high, begins to preach of days gone by. His helper smirks, begins to laugh, he buffs the weld then steps back. A surgeon’s hand is not as steady he caps the weld he makes it ready. An x-ray shot is clean or moot, another joint another root.
Months go by, seasons change, friendships grow but some will strain. Days of the week like time when it ticks seem to be blurred with no relevant fix. The paramount goal to finish on time; the enclosed precious cargo must get down the line. Like ants on a mound, perpetual motion the sequence repeats the process keeps going.