By Ann Carolan
Driving wind and rain
Across plains of shallow gulf waters
Recently bared by low tide; now swept, revealing mud inches below
Flats beside saw grass rising into low brush
Once haven for tall cedars and spreading live oak,
Ancient, hundreds of years, of slow growing creation
Invasive species pushes out native plants
Like invading Europeans displacing indigenous tribes
Armed with righteousness false
In truth, not understanding earth’s hidden secrets
Rather, out of tune,
Consequences to humans, to wildlife, to ecosystems
Yet to every life
Living in terror
Of greenhouse effect, melting ice caps
Mad men seeking power
Follow instinctual trek of hunters
Tribes of modern men invent more weapons,
more killing fields
To protect the money god.
Driven by strange doctrines
Yet, gentler, gatherer tribes farm, nurture, grow.
Propagate the earth haven.
Sent from heaven, stewards of creation
Follow the WAY of peace, harmony,
in tune with nature
A gentle people inherit the earth
In the End.