You blame me,
us,
them,
for stealing your dreams.
“How Dare You!”
you shout,
face twisted, contorted
into emotion.
Sadly, no one told you,
no one guided you,
to know,
no one can steal your dreams.
Just you,
and only you,
can let your dreams,
hopes,
desires,
visions,
slip away.
You can blame others
all you want,
as loud as you want,
but the truth is this:
You’ve lost your dreams?
That’s on you.
Just when I thought
I wouldn’t care,
folks who brought me here
can’t be left there.
There’s much I want
to go and do.
I imagine at one time
they did too.
But then I and you
came to be,
and they stayed and cared
for you and me.
Now it’s our turn to watch and tend;
As they did before, we’ll help to their end.
Thanks to my daughter’s use of “micro-garbage”, I made a submission to Urban Dictionary. Even if they don’t approve it, here’s the definition!
Micro-garbage, aka micro-trash: Small pieces of plastic and other non-biodegradable litter and garbage that annoyingly show up even in forests, beaches, parks, and gardens. Examples include cig butts; bottle tops; plastic tape from cardboard boxes; gum wrappers; broken glass; fast food anything (wrappers, cups, lids, straws, styrofoam containers, condiment packages). Take a deep look at any nature setting and see how many small pieces of garbage litter the ground and plants. (Then, pick it up!)
The wildflower patch was so full of micro-garbage that we couldn’t enjoy the beauty until we’d picked up the junk.
My walk on the park trail was disturbed by the micro-trash littering the bushes.
By the end of our walk in the woods, our pockets and backpacks were stuff with micro-garbage.
She laughed at my nature-loving attitude, saying: “Your yard is full of micro-garbage!”
I’m called tree hugger,
greener,
environmentalist,
eco-warrior.
I call myself
those names, too.
But when I see
red-faced screamers
demanding that
governments and nations
make accords,
do something,
force compliance,
I back away.
Giving government
more power
is not where I’ll waste
my waste-fighting
eco-warrior
energies.
Haven’t we learned
from Muir,
Thoreau,
Leopold,
and others?
They DID,
and they wrote
about what they DID.
Movements started
with the power of
DOING,
with the power
of words.
They introduced others
to the beauty
and wonder
and peace,
and joy
found in God’s Creations,
in Mother Nature.
They partnered
with God,
with Nature,
to help folks,
the common man and woman,
feel love for
and wonder at
all God’s creations.
Because how will I
partner with,
love,
and protect
a creation
I’ve never experienced?
This was prompted by an essay on individual responsibility in environmentalism.
I must be always/
positive, and give peace on/
earth, good will to all.
— The backstory for this poem was my take on Longfellow’s poem “I heard the Bells”, and also a haiku inspired by a prose piece Kate Phillips wrote. You can read it here.
When your life gets timed,
counted, and scheduled, it seems you/
lose time to create.
Backstory: On #HomeGrownNationalPark‘s Facebook page, someone posted a photo of sprouting acorns, and wrote: “I know it’s not much, but … “.
Here’s my response:
In praying for rain,
I felt like an old farmer,