Cable

Five tall men come striding

With tools and spurs clanking,

Two great trucks come rolling

With silver coiled spools

Of bright shining cable.

They are bringing a new road

To our little town;

A highway, a river,

Whose traffic is speech.

They fling themselves up tall poles

And out over the ground.

Their swift work binds us close

To far-sounding highways.

Silver rope in black sheaths

Singing out over mountains,

Marching over broad grainfields,

Winding under city streets,

Lying dark under water;

Makes a highway, a river,

Whose traffic is speech.

Cable men are stringing

Their bright lanes of silver

Through our little town!