The Hour is Here

Aug. 12, 2011

They tell me winter furious and fierce

With icy hands tore from the earth all warmth.

The song-birds huddled frozen on the boughs

And wind and sleet disrobed the stately trees.

Many died who could not bear the blast

That whipped and snarled across the frigid fields.

Cold was the world and barren lay the land

Praying for the warming rays of Spring.

I saw the devastation and the death

While walking on the stiff and crackling sod,

The lake lay sleeping in the morning's chill

Treacherous the rods with silver sleet

Shining as the pale sun arose

Facing the wrath of a force gone awry.

Now the season of new birth begins

The soaring hawk high above me calls

Her greeting when I wake to greet the day.

Will Nature be compassionate and save

This most unconscious animal called man

Whose devastation on a greater scale

Has called from Nature's bowels her reply.

Knowing nought but greed and power-lust

Our very future in the balance lies.

Wake, O man, hear the trumpets sound,

The hour is here, imperative the choice.