Granite

The grooves are still there, 
Pressed into the granite by weight:
The weight of transporting granite.
The old tramway is gone now
The mine's emptiness has filled,
Water seeping into the vacuum
Making an unlikely pond, leaving
Dartmoor's history in a groove.

Rocks resist man, remain aloof,
Impregnable til greater forces
throw them asunder, swallowing
Villages in their volcanic thrust,
Reminding man of his insignificance.
When nature ravages and storms,
We are cast aside or enveloped.