Drum of the rain that pours earthward to
Strike up a rhythm on timpani
Verdant, a song that will never play
Just as it does in this debut farewell.
City of ants crawling frantic’lly
Toiling their labor beneath em’rald
Ceilings, society structured by
Nature who engineered every street.
Warden of earth, the protector that
Holds back the marching of time. Terra’s
Armor, patina’d against decay
Brought by the water and wind that reshape.
Bed for the weary with no other
Home to inhabit, luxurious;
Kings even envy the comforting
Clutch of a meadow’s embracing repose.
Boast of a man’s harsh dominion to
Prove that he masters the elements.
Envy of neighbors; each toils on with
No other goal but to turn his mark green.
Instrument grasped between thumbs, playing
Anthem of childhood joy, summoning
Armies or gracing the stage — endless
Uses imagined by minds still unfurled.
Plaything of wind, the expanse which it
Paints with abandon, brushstrokes ever
Shifting, this masterpiece visible
Merely for moments from vantage aloft.
Life, though in form unfamiliar,
Inhales and exhales and waxes and
Wanes, overlooked by the masses that
Trod, never heeding this beautiful
Anchor and armor and city expansive,
The canvas of elements railing against it,
The chorus that sings and the band that exults,
The defier of all who would tame its advances,
The simplest of all growth that carpets the earth.
Yet content it will live ever on.