He Fought the Water for Twenty Years Then the Backhoe Hit Something That Shouldn't Have Been There

He'd Farmed That Land for Forty Years Then the Grader Blade Hit a Log That Shouldn't Have Been There

She Pulled a Rusted Chain From the Creek Bank — Then a Wooden Gate Rose From the Mud

He'd Run the New Pump for Twenty Four Years Then the Spade Hit Wood That Shouldn't Have Been There

He Drove a Water Tank Out Every Thursday for 23 Years — Then a Post Hole Started Filling on Its Own

He Farmed That Ground for Nineteen Years — Then the Excavator Hit Tile That Shouldn't Still Run