Nature’s Mettle

In a century far, far, away…

How memorable the cold,
where snow and winter creatures
disturbed not the quiet and peace.

Amidst a planet inviting its deepfreeze,
How easy it was for this survivor,
one of few humans left standing
to enjoin the natural environment,
become one with all that was left.

He had learned—invigorating.  
He knew—inspiring.
“I am,”—sublime.

Such was the fortune at his feet,
opting for fresh air over profit,
clean water over polluted expediency,
freedom over captivity.

Would that the species had understood
that Natures gifts need not be owned,
need not be exploited,
need not be captured or killed.

Now, as he remembered
humanity succumbing to power’s greed,
power’s greed infecting minions with despair,
despair reducing will to compliance,
and compliance rendering the species mute,
he arranged his gathered wood and built his fire.

Small were the flames,
just enough for food and warmth.
Enormous was his wilderness

of enduring roots and winter berries a plenty.

Nature remained the provider of more
than he’d ever need.

From a branch high above,
the owl nodded.

From behind a tree,
the squirrel blinked.

From its sapling shelter,
the stag joined him.

Together,
they co-mingled.
man and beast,
reason and nature.
life and living,
consciousness and conscience.

Such was life’s reward.

A gentle wind taking
a few snowflakes aloft,
a cloud etched sun about to set,

life determined to survive.

Nature’s mettle provided all,

just as intended.