Our World 135 Million Years Ago

The Continent of Pangaea

© S. Brune, GPlates

Nature Untrammeled

Out upon the dust strewn plain,

of the great divide of infinite life.

We struggle through dry throat bile,

on the cusp of some great strife.

Following the drought, comes the rain,

flooding the lifeless, thirsty plain.

Washing all the collected dust away,

leaving only gravel in its sway.

Continents move exorably slow,

imperceptible except to those in the know.

Pushing up mountains in their wake,

creating environments that we take.

Mining for riches, we use up the land,

terraform its purpose for what is at hand,

Natural beauty becomes something planned.

Nature cries at the loss of time's sand.

In the end, when all becomes clear,

nature knows best, but the time is near,

when all we thought we knew was wrong,

predicted by a forgotten folksong.

When the wealth of nations,

would make us plenty,

following the footsteps of,

the rhyme of J. Paul Getty.

We fell for the fallacy of,

greedy short-term gain.

An economic policy,

that was mostly in vain.

So nature took back what it had lost,

all that short-term gain, too great a cost.

We learned our lesson a very hard way,

while nature recovers what we led astray.

Copyright 2018 © Ronald W. Hull

10/19/18

You can view this poem at my website here.