What Must They Think

Why do they put themselves into those metal boxes
And race on rubber wheels
On asphalt trails
With their eyes on the destination
And not on the journey
They fear death
Yet peril is at every turn

And why is the apple
Provided freely
Taken and heated
Mashed
Placed into a jar
To be bartered?
When the apple has been provided
Freely
With no more effort than to pluck it from the tree

And why
When we provided the sun
Moon
Stars
Daylight and night
Do they measure by the blink of an eye
The passing of time

The natural wonders we placed
For all
Yet they barter these sights too

We gave them each other
For companionship
Yet granted and often hated
Has been the result

Oh, what must they think?