Wild Woman lifts her antenna,
swivels it around like a periscope,
assessing the territory. Much has changed,
herself most of all, on this journey
of sending sea-soaked words
out into the world.
The last of the old growth is falling.
Let the world fall silent
to ponder this grievous fact.
The Old Ones who provide habitat
for the non-human realm,
the lungs of the planet
that sequester our carbon,
will soon be gone,
as the planet warms
and the ice floes melt
and creatures everywhere
- including us -
struggle increasingly
to survive.
A vast quiet has come to live
inside her chest.
Wild Woman is running out of words
of warning, of grief.
Resignation, a weeping sky,
Hope, a tightly curled, pink-edged
cherry blossom almost ready
to bloom.
Day 3
... may you continue to share words of wisdom for eons to come. We need them.
ReplyDeletewe visited Point Lobos today, among the throngs. The old trees, fallen, now cut and marked with blue paint. Too many roads nearby to let the old growth fall where it may, to be replaced in due time. We rush and scurry too much, don't we?
ReplyDeleteMay you never run out of words of warning. Keep writing and talking. Maybe you will influence someone who needs to be influenced~
ReplyDelete