POEM - MOVING DIRT

every few days a freighter
carrying hundreds of tons of dirt
comes into port
when the tide is high.
I can see it from my window
the dirt is moved by crane
into a huge mound
and from there it is loaded
by backhoe
into dump trucks
and transported
a few blocks away
to a large lot
where it waits
until another winter storm
when it is again loaded
into smaller trucks
to be spread over the roads
to make them less dangerous
in icy and snowy weather
and then when the spring comes
the dirt gathers
on the sides of the road
some getting swept up by
the street sweeper
in his little sweep cart.
I look out the window and think,
“winter? what a great pain in the ass.”