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the immortal sea
spread like snow
white caps of salt
walking the carpet
of a white beach
dreaming of flying
imagine the white
the clean swatch
waves of salt
returning the white
water to the white
sands, the ocean’s
impersonating summer squalls
sunlight scented skin
shut open shut open shut
in a passing breeze
suspended in time
between stillness and movement
warmth and cool nights
morning and forever
open shut open shut open shut
life’s pages flap open shut
hints of fall
one more lonely pass around the sun
vanish for another year
deep distant rumbling
shuddering moments of loss
the sun shines still
quiet and still
warms this sun-kissed
one more day
Ode to Miss Charlotte M. Mason
Charlotte. May I call you Charlotte?
Is it appropriate to be so familiar
with someone so profound?
You are not my friend.
You are my hero.
You voice continues, even now, to speak
for the children’s sake
for Heaven’s sake
for the sake of all that’s holy.
What would you have done or said
in the face of assaults on nature
of melting ice caps
You were ahead of your time
would you raise up a cry
as the natural world crumbled?
How can children walk
beneath trees and sky
when the trees are gone
clearcut for profits
and bottom lines?
Yesterday, I found this in a notebook I kept about a year ago. Don’t even remember writing it. Must have been half asleep at the time? Such a nightmare vision that, unfortunately, has the potential to become reality in the not-so-distant future.
I don’t want to live in a world
of survivalists sitting on their
porches with guns across their laps
ready to shoot starving refugees
escaping from urban horrors as the
forests and ice caps die.
I felt saddened by being the end
of the genetic line of my ancestral
forefathers and foremothers knowing
the line stops here with my children
and their choices not to reproduce
which at first felt overwhelming, bleak.
But now, I wouldn’t want any future
descendants living in the world we
have been actively creating for the
future, a world without diversity, and
without balance, and possibly, eventually
without even life.
I have a growing sense that it’s time
for the human race to put our affairs
in order and prepare for a desolate
future without us, a future that belongs
to only whatever survives the coming
I am glad my descendants won’t be here
to see the end.