As the engines roared,

Thick black smoke danced

In search of the heavens above.

Metals cut the ground open.

The pain one could only imagine.

Symmetrical lines mapped the fields,

Whose green once housed thousands of arachnids.

Then the Lord watered the earth.

The thirst, the hunger for growth

And the master sowed his seed.

And hope filled the spring airs.

-Solomon-

I watched a famer and his son working the fields one lonely spring evening. So I wrote…