Now, out west,
instead of forests of green trees
we have forests of windmills
tall and thick,
fencing off the open land
where deer and antelope
used to play.
While back east
coal miners lose their jobs
and sell their houses
at half their worth,
while in the winter months
they huddle close together
with their families
and friends
in rented rooms
without a view,
their wives, children
and Uncle Joe,
lighting candles
on the floor
when the west winds
refuse to blow.