Rumors of an Oilspill
They say how a drunken sailor rammed ice,
cracked his vessel.
They say imagine an inkspot larger than Rhode Island,
look into it: what do you see?
They say birds are robbed of flight,
comical sea otters lose defenses and freeze.
They say next year salmon will cost more,
and, perhaps, oil.
But don't ponder the rapid destruction of the planet,
the waste of resources —
Those are thoughts for today;
repair, yes, but do not dwell.
The tireless tide will ever rise and fall;
winds will blow long after lungs have quit.
Surely these forces are stronger than
humanity and its hurry.
Look in again, deeper this time:
there is a dream, a prayer,
A poetry of a day when
desert sands will rise to reclaim abandoned cities.
Moss will cling to quiet axles,
the sea shall churn itself clean.