The bounteous skin of the earth corrupted,
its bones break through, bleaching in the sun-
light, which beats on the dust blown surfaces
taking from it life and burning into it death.
An owl flies through the ruins where the gaunt,
parched desert yields it no life and so it falls,
scattering its atoms into a hungry landscape,
where nothing can stay the terrible tragedy.
Where it meets sea – the salt encrusted rocks
are battered by ravening waters and strewn
with the plastic detritus of human wastefulness,
its anger beats each stroke of crashing waves,
together they cry out for justice and mercy but
many people huddle and mutter, they grumble
and look at the encroaching briny, the storm
broken homes and the violent viruses, which
their selfishness has released by condemning
the oak and the redwood, hazel and ebony;
replacing them with concrete, cattle and city
slickers blinded to the call of the creation.
The earth groans and calls, spits flames, and
burns paths through human made jungles ’til
the air is filled with its call – that folk will hear
and relent of their evil and work with nature for