by Dale Goodner
There was a smear, a dirt veneer,
upon our planet’s face…
And on this muck through skill and luck
evolved the human race.
We till and toil, to work the soil,
then sow selected seeds,
then we pray, come harvest day,
our crops will meet our needs.
And when we’re stressed with crawlin’ pests,
and weeds are all about,
we tan their hides with pesticides,
and keep them vermin out.
The wind and rain may rob our claim
and haul away some ground,
that silt and clay has got a way
of turning rivers brown.
The surface tilt’s been claiming silt
fer decades so it seems,
as time flows by it’s multiplied
those mired and murky streams.
In future years, with no-one here,
all gone without a trace,
the Earth all clean, what will it mean?
…we washed our planet’s face!