Lessons of a Summer Day at the Beach

O Mother Earth, in selfish need we grasp
for the riches and might of guns and gold.
To profit and death we cling 'til last gasp,
feasting on your carcass, vultures so bold.

If we were to but pause in our pursuit
to taste the sweet juice of the orange night sky,
to smell cotton candy clouds drift en route,
our love for you we might intensify.

Hear the frothy madness of waves tumbling.
Feel the furnace blast of the golden sun.
Sink your bare feet into the sand crumbling.
Gaze to the horizon to be undone.

Wholeness cannot be found in token wealth,
but in the sacred earth we gain our health.

©2016 Kenneth W. Arthur