While riding home after a visit with our daughter last August, I was moved by the sights we passed on the highway, and was inspired to write a little poem.
The asphalt ribbon lies ahead,
Mile upon country mile.
Field and sky melt together,
On the distant prairie horizon.
Pumpjacks bow toward the earth,
Urging the ground to surrender its treasure.
Crops of canola, sunflowers, and grain,
Lift their golden heads toward the sun.
Rail cars await the prairie bounty,
To share with neighbours far and wide.
Weathered barns sag, abandoned,
Left to rot in the sun, wind, and rain.
We pass these familiar scenes,
As we make our way home.
Our prairie home.
I’m glad you were moved to poetry! I didn’t know those ‘things’ are called pumpjacks so I’ve also learned something from your poem 😀
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Thanks! I’m always a little tentative about my poetry, but glad you liked it.
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Pumpjack? Is that what I call a “nodding donkey”? I liked seeing them when we were driving out your way, sometimes with pronghorn wandering amongst them. To my mind these are iconic images, and your words conjure up more memories (to me, at least) of an alien but intriguing landscape.
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Nodding donkey seems like a good name for those. Pumpjacks always remind me of those bird ornaments that dip their beaks in a glass of water.
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I’ve never seen a pumpjack–they look very prehistoric! Love the poem and the gorgeous imagery!
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Thanks so much! Pumpjacks dot the prairies and are quite a familiar sight. Oil is just one of the varied resources out here.
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Spectacular photos, Candice! Especially the different skies in each. I love your poem, as well. When we used to travel across country (from the Deep South to California), we passed hundreds of oil pumps doing their business. Now they’re museum fodder. Too bad.
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Thanks so much for the nice comments. There are still lots of pumpjacks doing their thing on the Canadian prairies but may be a thing of the past here soon too.
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