The Quarry

When the wind picks up and blows its cold touch dust like smoke screens will fall from the quarry. And thequarry stands, a hidden treasure amongst the shade of the mountains. An undisturbed playground for the birds. The pile of rocks, tin sheets and dirt tracks all evidence of the profitable town that now lies quiet in the hills. And steel machinery, stone-sorters and gold-finders now lie rusting in the Winter. -Billy Allen