Logging Machines...Tires,Tracks and Textures
Men can be boys at any age.... Derelict logging machines at the end of their days. No longer hauling, pushing, pulling and lifting. The roar of Cummins, Cat, Detroit and Mack engines are silent now. The paint fades and the rust grows. Memories linger. If the wind is just right And you turn into it You can hear the whistles and horns Jake brakes and rattling chokers And the voices of loggers Who made a living on the side of a mountain With steel and diesel Who built legends amongst the cedars with tin hats and spiked boots.