His world, a bloated
and sour thing, was
fond of destruction
above all other things.
The animals and birds,
those few still hanging
on wherever they could
like the deer hiding
in thickets up along
the power lines or in
woodlands down by
the water, were baffled
and fearful. Man had lost
his mind, having turned
his back on the grand
web weaved by earth
to sustain and keep them
all safe. Will they ever stop?
owl hooted. When? crow
screeched by sleeping bear.
But smokestacks answered,
never! in darkening skies.
Who needs nature? a banker
laughed, counting his money.
It’s about progress, the real
estate developer chimed in,
signaling the bulldozers
to attack the trees.
And protecting freedom
and our way of life, the soldier
snorted, cleaning his shiny
rifle as war planes rumbled
overhead. So the clock kept
ticking, precious time slipping
away in his world, in that
bloated and sour thing.
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