Power line cutting a thick
Scar across the
Hillside of
Trees.
Signatures of Civilisation; straight
Lines and angles,
Perfect circles. All within
What has none.
Needs none.
Wants none.

Maimed and modified
By the cynical scalpel
Of laziness named Progress,
By incompetent
Surgeons.

Waterfalls tamed and forced
Through turbines.
This naked mountaintop
Was a mile stone
For pedestrian generations.
Now it holds that giant antenna
Like a spiteful eyesore
To those who love
The land.

Power and signals, to sit
In air conditioned comfort
And watch
Nature shows on TV.