Once it was hunted, about to extinction,
For its oil that would yield light,
Now petroleum is of distinction,
Illuminating mind’s dark night.
I worry somewhat about the species,
‘Tho no more the Nantucket sleighride,
Congrats for the thinking and new theses,
Wherein both mammals can abide.
Elsewhere the search is endless toil,
That giant remains an endless wonder.
Elsewhere is found deep earth’s oil,
And, still pulling things asunder.
All this makes a wondrous story,
But parts do seem to be a fraud,
Splicing together bits of glory,
Seeking reverence from a false god.
Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.