Earth Day -- April 22, 2015

Consider today the thoughtful words of this sonnet by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950):

     Read history: so learn your place in Time
     And go to sleep: all this was done before;
     We do it better, fouling every shore;
     We disinfect, we do not probe, the crime.
     Our engines plunge into the seas, they climb
     Above our atmosphere: we grow not more
     Profound as we approach the ocean's floor;
     Our flight is lofty, it is not sublime.
     Yet long ago this Earth by struggling men
     Was scuffed, was scraped by mouths that bubbled mud;
     And will be so again, and yet again;
     Until we trace our poison to its bud
     And root, and there uproot it: until then,
     Earth will be warmed each winter by man's blood.

These lines are found on my shelf in Collected Sonnets (Revised and Expanded Edition) by Edna St. Vincent Millay (Harper & Row, 1988).  AND, recall the arithmetic of a sonnet:  14 lines (or breaths) and 5 iambs (or heartbeats) per line. 

Earth Day, 2013

     OUR earth is finite. 
     Its resources are
     finite. No clever
     transformation can

     convert the
     finite to
     infinite.

     We must
     learn to

     share.  

And, here is a link to a previous Earth Day posting.

Earth Day, 2011

      My father, a farmer, was respectful of our earth's resources.  Replenish what you take, he taught.   But some of us consume without replacement as if the earth is infinite in its capacities. 
     When growth is exponential, we may not see its consequences before it is too late.  (Have we already destroyed the balances of nature?)  The following 8 x 8 syllable-square poem restates a oft-used math-textbook question -- and reminds us that little time may be left to solve environmental problems.   

A Square for Earth Day

Greetings on EARTH DAY.  Earth's inhabitants today pay a price not only for our own careless habits but also for earlier ignorance about the fragility of our world. (As Garrett Hardin has said, "There is no away to throw to.")  The April 20 edition of  the Washington Post had an AP article about the risks of trash to wildlife in the Atlantic that provoked me to write the following square poem.