May 10th, 2009
House by house.
Some have swirls
Or smaller quarters.
The barren desert disappears
In water
In sod
In concrete
In light.
How far will nature fly?
Not as far as our reach.
Because it has not wings
Or the will to leave
Or the perception of its end.
We see potential,
It sees limitations.
It gives all it can
Yet we take more than it offers
And squander it on fountains
And lawns
And pools without number
Or concern.
A once unique miracle of life
Can be seen daily at the Bilagio.
It’s origin is unquestioned.
Our miricle of gamling cities
arid suburbs
And desert golf courses
Will soon end.
Our dead will overflow from yards
To sidewalks
To the gutter
Just as people begin to ask where it all went.
With her last breath
Nature will say
She offered herself freely
And we raped her anyway,
Not feeling the raping of ourselves.
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