What are their thoughts, this galant crew, who risk their lives the long day through, in summer heat or winter snow, taking orders from afar and below?
What are their thoughts, these men of brawn, who joke and swear or hum a song, who know their distance well could be a rubber glove from eternity?
What are their thoughts at the close of day, as they scramble down and put hooks away?
Do they thank God for the heart skipped beat, to feel the earth beneath their feet?
What are their thoughts as they head for home, longing once more to greet their own?
Surely they must feel some delight, knowing they helped turn darkness into light.
Paul Harvey News and Commentary February 3rd, 1986
Submited By:
polebuddy3@aol.com