Night Woods

Mike Essig
Aug 21, 2020 · 1 min read

Getting and spending
we lay waste our days.

These woods
are not ancient.

Harvested forty
years ago:
skinny trees,
scrubby undergrowth,
such creatures as
can still survive.

Man’s meager leavings.

Our only world reels
before our
greed and waste.

Caught up in
the cacophony
of mindless
daily news,
we barely notice.

Jungles burn.
Deserts expand.
Glaciers retreat.
Animals expire.

My children
will live on a
diminished earth:
no cassowaries,
polar bears,
white tigers.

Nothing wild.
Only sad zoos.

How little love
we spare for
our ruined globe.

How short the time
that still remains.

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