Fairbanks Morse


| January/February 1987

Rt. 1, Box 328, Mission, Texas 78572

Under the ground and under the furrow, Where the roots come down and small things burrow,
The water runs its hidden course Sent by the giant, Fairbanks Morse.

On the level land by the Rio Grande Where the fields are wide and the palms grow tall,
And the fields grow corn and cotton and cane,
And growing things both great and small
Look to the empty skies for rain-
Look to the high dry skies in vain-
To their seeking roots, their thirsty roots,
Comes surging life from the water main,
Through subterranean watercourse.

Down in the ground where no man sees
The beat of the pulsing arteries
Is sent on its course
With mighty force
By the captive giant, Fairbanks Morse.



Here in the unkempt mesquite trees,
Where the grass is tall, and all around
A ragged jungle for lizards and bees,
A hut that's rude and square is found, Partly below the level of ground.

Here in his concrete cave held fast,
Upright and tall, where the light within
Is dim, but still in the gloom is seen
The towering giant, Fairbanks Morse,
Who sends the water on its course, Fed and nursed by a tending Djinn.