Over 16,525,968 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?
Can you tell me where the flowers are
That glorified our hill;
The purple-tinged wisteria,
The honeyed daffodil?
And where have all the starlings flown,
The grebes, the chickadees,
That raised a psalm to each new morn
With awe-filled symphonies?
I’ve noticed, too, the spruce and fir
That boldly stood their ground
When wind and flood and winter storm
With fury did astound;
Are numbered just a precious few
That have managed to forestall
The woodsman’s axe, the dozer’s blade,
The chain saw and the maul.
The soil that once absorbed the rain
To replenish wells below
Have been stripped away – no deep-set roots
To stem the rapid flow.
The rain now rushes undeterred
Over cragged, barren ground,
And dumps its grimy sediment
Into river, lake, and sound.
Poem By Tammy C.
