In Concert with S. Lyman Temple's "Ode to Plastic"

 

 

Across this green and verdant land
Atop the snow capped reaches high,
Shadows lengthen as the sun
Descends in golden strata sky.

Alone I sit on granite stone
Contemplating nature’s gold
Why then, is my mood so dark?
Why then do I feel, so old?

I caste my mind across the sea
To continents adrift and lost
Where war and famine grow unchecked,
Where we, afar, won’t count the cost.

Where we who dwell in peaceful air
Rescind concern for they who bleed,
In Syria’s protracted scream
Or under Russian jackboot greed.

Where we who dwell in peaceful air
Withhold our roar of hot retort,
Who turn the other cheek to look
Away from honour’s last resort.

Where politic’s impotent bleat
Of sanctions threat for Cossack cheek
A nervous holding hand depicts
The West’s resolve is proven weak.

We who watch with no comment
In green surround and peaceful sky
Now turn to look the other way
As they in distant places die.

Do we come to terms with this,
This dereliction born of loss?
Across the globe this dirth of care,
Humanity's lead albatross?

M.