What will the world be like
When there are no more bees, trees, or frogs?
When scorched earth is our reality
And we breathe in choking smog?
We continue to generate scads of plastic waste
Build mansions of questionable taste
Kill off species at a unimaginable pace –
Are we proud we’ve trashed this place?
What awaits our children now?
Are clear blue skies and lakes unicorns?
Are we considering the future for mankind
As even more of us are born?
I asked you to recycle your plastic
And put your cardboard in the nearby bin
You laughed at me for having asked it,
And I knew, sadly, that I would not win.
There just aren’t enough who care
Plenty who talk the talk but won’t walk the walk
And plenty who are aware
And deluding themselves about this epoch:
Glaciers melting, record heat,
Dirty air, algal blooms, CAFO meat,
Tech “reality,”, rainforest burning…
But the world keeps turning.
For those who refuse to accept
What’s in front of their faces
Soon, differences won’t matter,
Like political affiliations, religions, races…
We’ll be struggling to survive
On the world we’ve taken for granted
And abused, neglected, and plundered
And we’ll reap the terrible harvest we’ve planted –
Because not enough of us care, you see,
About anything other than “me”,
Even though the world must operate as “we”…
And so much depends on the flight of the bee.
An arborist once told us that the big Silver Maple (that I like to think of as the guardian of this property) could be a hundred plus years old. How the world has changed in those years, including the land surrounding the stately tree…but the tree has many more years to live, so what seems like a long lifetime in human years may just be middle age for the tree. With a life expectancy of, say, 200 years, human perspective would surely be altered.
It’s technically Fall, and yet, here, the temperatures are in the 90’s and precipitation has been nearly non-existent. The grass is dry and crunchy, leaves are brittle…it’s clearly a drought. The ground – clay soil – has contracted with the prolonged arid conditions and manifests large, jagged cracks. Is it crying out? I am: let summer end now!
A few more images:
Forecasts (at least in these parts) are fairly unreliable, and storms that were supposed to bring rain this month either petered out prior to arriving or only provided a teasing shower; temperatures are predicted to beginning falling precipitiously in a few days, and rain is supposed to make an appearance next week. We shall see…and I shall keep my fingers crossed!
My caterpillar friend has completed its metamorphosis and emerged in what I know must be an amazing new form. Unfortunately, I didn’t see when it actually departed the confines of its chrysalis. I suppose that, generally speaking, the likelihood of witnessing that event is low…but I had still hoped.
Instead of marinating in my disappointment, I choose to be glad that the winged creature was able to successfully make that incredible change and leave, to begin life anew. I’ve seen some lovely butterflies that could be that elusive changeling. What do you think?
Leaves crunching underfoot, the filtered quality of light, the goldenrod blooming…all herald Autumn’s arrival. The Canada geese, in particular, have historically been a seasonal bellwether for me, with their cries and formations a clear sign of the end of summer. As a big fan of fall, I welcome it, in all its pumpkin-spiced glory!