Wilderness Is Anything but Wild

Wilderness is anything but wild.
It is an artifact of modern life.
Longing for innocence, we are beguiled,
Determined to re-virginize our wife.
Eons of humanity were there,
Resident in each ecology.
Nor can we go back further, for nowhere
Exist the plants and creatures we would see.
So we create what never was, a place
Set aside as a reserve for grace.
Twenty-Five
Twenty-five remembers when the world
Was not our slave, when rivers danced and sang
Entering their gauntlets, when grass and fire
Needed each other, and earth and flood. The choir
Then sang full throated, the food each season sprang
Yet thrashing to the feasts of those who served.
For thousands of millennia we lived
In harmony with those we ate, their spirits
Vested momently in flesh, their avid
Embers still in love with those who grieved.
Thirty-Two
Thirty-two guards well a sacred place,
Hallowed not by faith but by raw beauty.
In wilderness one finds an ancient other,
Remnant of a long-forsaken mother,
To safeguard which is both a joy and duty.
Years pass, yet he will guarantee this grace.
Tough and succulent, bare-boned and fruity,
Wilderness presents the world full face,
Over which no qualm has thrown its cover.
Global Warning
Global warning,
Likening us to lichens
Or pandering to pandas
Because we are bone of one bone
And flesh of one flesh:
Life can end.
What would we?
Are we driven to be driven?
Revved to rev?
Nor do we need what we need.
If each cell is a cellmate,
Now we must get on our knees,
Given time to be forgiven.
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