Streetsweeper Sysiphus
Streetsweeper Sysiphus,
There you go again,
With a sibilant brushing of the road
And miles to go before you sleep.
Cleaning up our annual mistake,
The sandy castings of our grasp at a Utopia
In which no driver ever slides into a ditch,
Despite their obstinance at challenging Mother Nature.
Streetsweeper Sysiphus,
You must get, what?...
One half mile to the gallon?
Worse even than a school bus.
But in a world of mandatory silt-fences
At every tiny site of earth disturbance,
Bless you for trying to staunch the ironic flow
Of tons of sand and salt seeking its own level.
A remedy for Nature's offensive glazing of the byways,
Senseless tons that we have deposited
With machines using perhaps
Even more fuel than you.
Streetsweeper Sysiphus,
Hissing through my neighborhood,
Hissing by my office,
Will your whirling brushes ever cease?
Copyright 2012 - Tom McCowan
Streetsweeper Sysiphus,
There you go again,
With a sibilant brushing of the road
And miles to go before you sleep.
Cleaning up our annual mistake,
The sandy castings of our grasp at a Utopia
In which no driver ever slides into a ditch,
Despite their obstinance at challenging Mother Nature.
Streetsweeper Sysiphus,
You must get, what?...
One half mile to the gallon?
Worse even than a school bus.
But in a world of mandatory silt-fences
At every tiny site of earth disturbance,
Bless you for trying to staunch the ironic flow
Of tons of sand and salt seeking its own level.
A remedy for Nature's offensive glazing of the byways,
Senseless tons that we have deposited
With machines using perhaps
Even more fuel than you.
Streetsweeper Sysiphus,
Hissing through my neighborhood,
Hissing by my office,
Will your whirling brushes ever cease?
Copyright 2012 - Tom McCowan