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Twelve thousand years ago The cold began to lessen. The soil turned soft and Green shoots appeared in spring. Dug in the ground and saw We could plant and reap later. We learned to stay in one place, Build shelters to hold stores. And so our bands grew: Group to tribe to nation. And so our prowess grew: Equal to chief to master. Hardly knowing it We enjoyed this sweetspot Of our world’s long story. And acted as if it was we Who determined its course. And now comes this insight, The late understanding that We are near the end of the road With our earth slowing turning into A place unfit for life. |
