by Glenn Meisenheimer
© Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved
If there ever was a reason why
the stars reeled high in fragrant spring,
And danced the moon on treetops high,
Why butterflies all took to wing,
Why raindrops ever softly fell
On daffodils turned faces up,
With breezes, soft, conveying smell
Of lilac, stock, and buttercup.
If there ever was a reason why
It rests, with awe, beneath the dust.
To beauty we could not reply,
But turned to avarice and lust.
The earth is scarred by all that comes
With man's relentless want of things.
While culture pounds upon the drums
We all forget our childhood springs.
The clear cut forests lie in fog,
Just memories of birds remain.
Gone the butterfly and frog,
With even's sweet and soft refrain.
Thus nature shrinks beneath our pall
To wither in our blighted hands;
But somewhere still inside us all
The child within us understands.
Before it's done, before the end,
Do we dare heed that child's cry,
To stop, to mend, to comprehend,
To learn again the reason why?
