Communing With Nature

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Submitted by Rick Giles on Tue, 2006-06-20 23:44

Communing With Nature

“Where?” Asked the rivers that didn’ know where to flow
“Where,” asked the four winds, “do you comand us to blow?”
“Here.” Said the man with the map in his hand.

“When?” Asked the stars that were fated to crash.
“When?” Asked the volcano as it started to ash.
“When?” Asked the rains that were waiting to splash.
“When,” asked the lightning, “do you command me to flash?”
“Now.” Said the man with the clock in his hand.

“No.” Cried the oil disturbed from the ground.
“No.” Howled the beasts nolonger unbound.
“No.” Wept the wheat his pestle had found.
“No,” croaked the desert, “you’ll not have me drowned!”
“Yes.” Said the man with the leash in his hand.

“Who?” Whispered the children, the sick, and the old.
“Who?” Asked the philosophers, scientists, and artists in the cold.
“Who?” Chortled the politicians, “for we’ve never been told!”
“I.” Said the entreprener, “I am the man.”

Adelaide, 5/June/06

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