Birds sing as on in nearby trees;
A helicopter flies overhead beating the air with its wings;
A motor works to keep the humans inside cool.
While humans driving cars burn deadly fuel;
Winds blows through the tree, the grass, past my ears,
Adding to the orchestra of sound I hear, but
Is this Nature?

Where I rest the grass has grown thin
And beyond me the grass does not grow;
Not where humans have stomped their mighty feet,
Not when the problem is ignored, to which they know;
Petite white flowers grow from the green sea
And large pink flowers blossom to be seen, but
Is this Nature?

Car engines that work only release invisible beasts that kill;
Vines begin a new path along plastic fences:
To which cannot enter the Circle of Life;
Human shelters are built on either side of me,
Where I can return to if the heat becomes to smothering, or the cold too shattering;
The plants, the animals, the sounds of the Earth cannot be enjoyed from where I rest;
This is not Nature.