Activism

WhiteOaks023

Admonish me
For not trying to do something
But seems I’ve no will of my own
The leaves stretch out
And fall of their own accord
When something in the wind
Whistles sideways
Or so I’ve always believed
And the soil here was plowed over
And dusted black by the surface mines
Trampled and compacted by a hundred head of cattle
That went first to the leaves of the plants
That dug deep and reached for strange mineral
So there’s little I’m able to do
My co-conspirator mycorrhizae not withstanding
To change things
Seems I am a play thing of the wind and stars
Put here to fruit in season
But I don’t know why
Or to what end
There’s talk of a rumble of machines
And fears we’ll all be plowed under again
Or a thousand head of robot cattle will devour us
But you must forgive me that I don’t bow to talk and fear
I have this grapevine weighing me down
And just yesterday was made to feel old
When tickled by the beak of a red-headed woodpecker

1-6-16

Photo by V Wilkins

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