The Inevitable

Where did the ice house go?

It went away, away

With the tobacco barn,

And a farmer with leather skin

And honest hands.

Where did the skipjack go?

It sailed away, away

With the ferry on the tide,

And a waterman with weary eyes

And steel hands.

That proverbial wind

Stole the innocence, the simplicity;

Swept the land of all it knew,

Save a lonely cicada and a cricket or two,

And left the heart with longing.

That forever wind

Rustles the thistle, and reed,

But refuses to leave. It refuses

To keep our life intact

And preserve the dying breed.

It simply steadies the sail

And guides them out to sea.