The Pylons

The secret of these hills was stone
Of that stone made and crumbling roads
That turned on sudden hidden villages

Now over these small hills they have concrete
That trails black wire, pylons, those pillars
Bare like nude giant girls that have no secret

But far above and as far as sight endures
Like whips of anger with lightning danger
There runs the quick perspective of the future

This dwarfs our emerald country by it's trek
So tall with prophecy, dreaming of cities
Where often clouds shall lean their swan white necks