Backyard Harmony

Their only tune the low hum of distant power.

Like giant strings
on a guitar
or a floating bar
of music....

The heavy lines
stretch high and tight
through the neighborhood,
their only tune
the low hum 
of distant power
coursing through 
or the wind strumming them
in the late afternoon.

They’re ominous,
their towers sinister.

The coils that suspend them
hang straight down,
their metal disks
as symmetrical and repetitive
as a stem 
of eucalyptus
 leaves.

They divide
the neighborhood,
but not divisively.

They obscure 
the view,
but only 
marginally.

They’re glaring,
but mostly invisible
to those who
live here.

They were strung
with foresight,
long ago,
down the middle
of each block
high above bare backyards
of suburban lots,
delivering their power
to new homes
through underground
lines no one’s 
seen before.

The backyards
are now lush,
covered by thick grass, 
vegetable gardens, 
pools and playsets,
shaded by red maples,
white oaks
and a smattering 
of river birch.

The streets
and front yards
are unencumbered,
no power lines, 
transformers
or utility poles.

Views from front doors
and covered porches
and picture windows,
unobstructed,
neat and serene,
as suburban life
was meant to be,
all in harmony.