Each evening as the Sun goes down, I gaze across the hills

And wonder at the changing Hues, theValleys and the Rills

The Ski Slope stands in the distance

Covered in its mantle of white

Voices barely heard echoing in the night

And it is nice...


To the Editor:
Each evening as the Sun goes down, I gaze across the hills
And wonder at the changing Hues, theValleys and the Rills
The Ski Slope stands in the distance
Covered in its mantle of white
Voices barely heard echoing in the night
And it is nice.
Then as my gaze wanders closer. It is hard to surpress a chill
For gone are Natures Blessings.gone are the Hues and Hills
The Earth instead is torn assunder
As Rapacious Man has Raped and Plundered
THE QUARRY !
Machines &,Trucks laboring .belching smoke on those living below
Even here, echoing thunder as the ancient landscape changes
And it is NOT nice.
Old Irad must be turning in his Grave
Along with the Lenapes once so Brave.
This land they trustingly passed on to us
Ground into nothing but rock and Dust.
But- does anyone really care?

(Signed)
Gerard Fitzpatrick  
Hawley, Pa.