A sea of birches between farms,
Sanctuary in white.
Away from streets, the crowds, alarms,
Here squirrels and birds in flight.
The forest, innate beauty everywhere,
City dwellers breathe disease pollution,
So we cut each other’s throats, as air
Requires thyroid cancer solution.
The dirge is decades long:
Plastic countries float.
No one hires the jobless throng
To clean it up by boat.
Or live a life without the stuff
Both profitable and convenient.
What bravery it takes to call the bluff
To live in thanks, with knee bent.
Not behind a pew in church
But out where the blue ridge calls,
Swim in the lakes, canoe in search
Of striders, Bash Bish Falls.
Vanishing wilderness calling out
Destroyed in many ways.
How to stop the money louts
Who control both night and day.
“You can’t have fun without spending
Lots of fuel and alcohol money.”
Without cash, misery never ending,
Left out of social lives, not funny.
So we slave in plants that add
To the natural decline.
End up in debt, if we only had
Stayed with our plow, the time
Spent working land would lead
My son and others to know how
Creation is meant to be.
Oh, what will we do now
That to live a natural life
Is too hard to do.
Now farmers commit suicide
With patented seed bills due,
Even those who work the land
Must ante-up to rotten banks.
Join us outside globalized bands
Bow down, give the creator thanks.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.