(An Italian sonnet)
Who do we think we are on this, our world?
We can not turn away from what we’ve done;
Some species gone before their time had come,
Like leaves that fell from trees as yet unfurled.
The waves crest o’er a sea like oysters’ pearls,
Whose luster fades when caked with ocean scum;
Yet flicker in the light of oil drums,
That we into the deep have always hurled.
Impress upon our kids we must to save,
The land and water we depend upon;
These must not turn into a final grave,
Before the life and love we always crave,
Grows cold and distant, both forever gone;
To us, the builders, of the path we pave …
(c) 2017 Miriam Ruff All Rights Reserved