When humans begin to play
in the workshop of the Mother,
we cheer at the fireworks
and admire our reflection
in the miracles we have wrought.
She welcomes her co-creators,
but how proud we are
to loosen the strings
and toddle away.
It’s easy then
to mistake a warning shot
for the starting gun
and take off in a carbon-fueled race to the stars.
Few notice when winter snows come late
and monarchs lose their way.
Hungry engines keep boring,
while tinkering fingers slide up the double helix.
What shape waits then in the milkweed seed,
and who will hear the cries
when caterpillars stop turning into butterflies?
Title from “What to Remember When Waking” by David Whyte
Written upon learning that monarch butterflies will likely be extinct in twenty years.
Image courtesy of Kenneth Dwain Harrelson
The Kingdom of Enough 
Beautiful poetry; sad reality. “Listen to yourself and in that quietude you might hear the voice of God.” –Maya Angelou
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Beautiful poetry, sad reality. “Listen to yourself and in that quietude you might hear the voice of God.” –Maya Angelou
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So scary, so sad, so true.
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Your poem is in keeping with Mary Oliver’s fierce attention to detail and a hearkening to what is occurring as we breathe in these precious present moments of a lifetime that looks to be exceedingly tumultuous in its mortality and vulnerability.
Beautifully articulated, Mary. Once again, thank you.
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Ooh the last couple of lines. Please send this to the SEntinel or the Chronicle. Thank you for writing so eloquently and getting the messages out to the world
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