More Forms of Life

Tops cut like a heart shape to let power lines through

The tree looks like a parody of Valentine’s Day

And with its leaves all pinkish-orange, they drop

As if in protest of the defacement, the shame

The injury of its pride in being a grand, aged oak.

But this, our city, our world, with no forewarning

That inch-by-inch it carries off nature’s beauty

Disregarding the voices of those who honor our world

And though a few more make noise and shout

We are like the Whos in Whoville, being so ignored

So that technology reigns, so that cookie-cutter suburbs

With their muted colors and life can be the norm.

But you decide which has the greater merit

For maintaining a quality of life, remembering

That there are more forms of life on the planet

Than just inhumanity.

Breathe

Riding in the back seat on a bumpy gravel road

The windows open letting in a stiff breeze

But the dust comes, too, making our eyes gritty

And our noses itchy so we sneeze

And this is how it goes, our teeth chattering

Because the shocks on this old car are bad.

So we hold hands and close our eyes and

Wrinkle our noses hoping to find the highway

Where the road is smooth and the air is clear

But the highway never comes

Because this is the new millennium

And there isn’t enough money

To clear the air, and the water and the ground

And we can’t just close our eyes anymore

And we can’t hold our breath long enough

To make an honest difference

So our grandchildren will be able to breathe.