The Brush Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The Brush

I stood, all amazed,
Kept looking straight,
At brush when moving,
Side to side, right to left.

Must have been crazy,
Or, maybe kind, caring,
To stand, keep watching,
Those workers brushing!

Saw the pegs and spikes,
Red, hugging, very tight.

When ended asphalting,
Some kept on cleaning,
By sweeping the streets.

I was on the sidewalk,
And stared at the brush.

Each motion, left to right,
Meant some pieces falling.

Either some bristles,
Or a few filaments,
Each was of plastic!

By mixing with the dust,
They dilute the farm life.

Silently I whispered:
"As I see now, here,
Mother Earth is a prey,
What will be after years?
Will any of our children,
Have the chance to enjoy,
The happy and natural life? "

The answer is, maybe,
With he, who is shouting:
"Drill baby, go and drill! "