Barker Hill
Had a thunderstorm
Dynamite jarring the ground
Knocking the bottom
From Uncle Ed’s well
Turning the mortar
In his chimney
Into dust
The roar of the big trucks
Night and day
Hauling locally
To Hart’s tipple
It was his home
His refuge
From the people
At the base
Of the hill
But they had brought hell
In the form of explosives
Robbing him of sleep
Wrecking his property
Turning the land
behind him
Into a pit
Poisoning the water
With iron pyrite
A legal strangulation
That would eventually
Force him to sell
To abandon his Eden
Without a look back
