Poetry

Tropical Depression

                                                                        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

            Cut down.

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,

            Dis-ingenuous,

                        Dis-engaging,

                                    Dis-astrous.

Consequences to humans, to wildlife, to ecosystems

Taming life

Yet to every life

            Now threatened

                        Living in terror

Of greenhouse effect, melting ice caps

Of bombs;

Of weaponry

Mad men seeking power

Follow instinctual trek of hunters

Now better-armed

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.