I worked at a large factory, west of Lawton for almost ten years. I met a lot of hard-working people there, and there I slowly matured into a better man.

From the Factory Window I

Late afternoon one Sunday
we stood at the factory window
and watched a storm move in
across the distant fields.

We were production-line workers,
able only to watch for a short while
So, with half-hearted resolve, we turned
reluctantly from the world outside,

and moved like sleep-walkers
back to our noisy machines;
barely noticing later the rain
as it beat furiously down upon the

prefabricated walls erected to protect us
from nature's rude inconveniences.

Next poem: From the Factory Window - II

Author: Jerry Dan Deutschendorf
from: Red Earth Whisperings
Part I: Nature and the Nature of Things