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Excavation Work
Early in the morning, the engines roar
to life, the excavation machine ready,
poised, the worker at the controls
manipulating its tracked feet and
single, lone arm.
The irregular hits into the ground,
sometimes digging,
sometimes drilling,
pounding,
or even barely scratching at the surface.
The engine still keeps rumbling on alive,
conjoining with the abrasive sounds of
the excavation work.
The worker brings the machine through
hard and soft rock,
mounds of earth,
wet and dry, these conditions all
affecting the process of the work.
Finally the hole will be complete,
six-feet deep,
the excavation machine standing at the
edge of the grave,
its engine switched off,
the excavation work over.

Written by Gogo

August 5, 2008 at 10:28 am

Posted in Poetry

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