random musings...

Tag: Earth

What Must the Trees Think?

What Must the Trees Think?

Anger that we lumber their siblings?
Terror when the ground we frack?
Pity that we have brought ourselves to the brink?
Befuddlement at our human quibbling?
Despair that they can’t fight back?

The willow, bent in mourning,
weeps for her children
and the aspen quakes,
whether from fear or rage.
I do not know.

Having dreamt of brilliant sun
and gentle rain, will the trees wake
from their deep winter slumber
surprised at what has become?
Or do they know, from the frog boiling
of the earth, what we have done?

The revered oak, Mayflower witness,
attests to the best and worst
we have to offer this earth.
How disappointed it must be
should it even deign to notice
our self-serving exertions.

To the Great Sequoia who
watches five generations of oak
come and go we must be nothing
more than malaria filled mosquitos.

The Bristlecone Pine birthed high
upon mountain before the first stone
of the first Egyptian pyramid was laid
looks daily into the face of God.
It most likely cares not one whit
about humanity.

I can almost hear, on a quiet day,
the trees wheeze and cough,
choking on our smog,
whimpering at the ill taste
of pesticide cocktails
as they suck at the ground,
a child with straw searching
for the last bit of nourishment
in the bottom of a glass.

©2017 Kenneth W. Arthur

Lessons of a Summer Day at the Beach

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

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