poetry & things

Backward Eden

Who shall remain to speak of Eden sleeping?

When gone the earth, our splendid garden

left of backward dreaming

and all the glorious twisty tendril reaches

vines to cling to life, anew the greening seasons

Alone the fields in September shades, grains

of wheat and rye will not play, of fall’s refraining

or sing the cat birds strange meowing

Once rows and rows, the fields flowed,

fed heavenly our daily bread

before the GMOs

Unearthly – sick the flocks afield

no bees about, the headless flowering yields

all the gifts, the seeds of life cannot be found again

we’ve decimated Eden

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