The kelp, strong and gentle
does not fight the current.
It bends and sways and
bows to passers by.
The tumbleweeds just amble on
when chosen by the wind.
Bumping into everything
that does not move in time.
The leaf that rides upon the stream
does not guide the flow.
It twists and turns
and spins about,
not managing the hour.
and we clear the mountains
and we taint the streams
and we drive the
pristine snows to mud.
Margaret Ann Newcomb
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/me-me-me-2/
