The Gardener

Weeding out the memories of time's forgotten thoughts
Too soon replaced by seeding from the new technology
I asked the gardener "What is in the future here for me?"
He turned a mild smile, then said, "Son, there's not a lot.
The growing litter piles turn to poison underground,
And as the ozone disappears in higher atmosphere
Pure sunlight now brings greater risks to people living here
My only hope is a good answer will, someday, be found."
I turned away at that moment, and as I worked the land
All sand and sea beneath me raced away to sullen shores.
A seagull flies to lofty peaks, and as the ocean roars,
My tools gently turn the soil; skills of a labored hand.
The gardener groaned, then staggered back to sit upon a stone
I rushed to heal his weariness, but he pushed me aside.
"I've done all that I can today. It's time to change the tide."
Then standing up, he brushed himself, then turned to walk alone.
The gardener never did return; I heard he died somewhere.
He never lived to see the people care about the earth.
As those who cherish life and nature, knowing of its worth,
Are working at replenishing the pureness of the air.
So to this end, I wish to thank the gardeners with respect,
To ask them for forgiveness from our garbage of the past
As we begin to change our ways to help the world to last
By teaching all our children that the evil is neglect.

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© 1991 David I. Brager
(Dedicated in loving memory of Dr. Douglas Bolitho, programmer for "Push-Button Bertha," the FIRST electronic music in the USA)