The Horses Pulled the Milkwagons

Something horrible happened on the road to the atom bomb. We ignored the warnings. The wars. The black smoke charging from black stacks. The men corralled in big rooms, whipped into submission by machines without arms or souls. And, when they left one day─almost on cue from communion bells, they saw the horses were gone. The men had lost time, freedom, the sound of clop-clop on the cobblestones; the calling out to riders to spur, to lovely ladies riding by; they’d lost magnificence. They'd lost the dignity of work.