Oh, Excavator

What traditions do you hold so close to you?
We’ve all but fallen for our leisure
Safe houses and quiet gardens
Oh, Excavator
Do you only nurture when the sun is out?
The light was shining on my stature
You were at a boil
Oh, Excavator
And I named you with certainty
As if the surfaces of things
Might represent
The condition of something that is not tangible
«Why don’t you want to be found?»