High on the mountain the view looks away
O’er routes to traverse which take a whole day,
Through hill and dale and brambles scratching deep,
Neath towering trees where safe nestlings peep:
These grandest of trees rooted in hills so steep
With nests firmly stuck amongst the high twigs
So nestlings can stay while trees dance a jig;
Meadows awash in bright sun and ripe blooms
Ready to pick to adorn human rooms.
But round this deep bend ugliness awaits:
A monstrous vision, truly a hell’s gate:
A strip mine engulfs an entire high hill
Even the ancient stone grinding grain mill.
Driven to greed for coal to burn we need,
Fastest mining way to eradicate weeds
Is to completely destroy flora vestiges
And leave it that way when the ore is gone.
High on the mountain the view turns away,
Afraid to behold what humans obey:
Weeping at the damage wrought by human greed
Destroying Gaia’s skin far beyond their needs.
Born and raised in Massachusetts, Linda Marie Hilton moved to NYC in her early 20's and resided there over a decade. She studied oboe, dreaming of becoming an orchestral musician, starved, studied accounting and became an accountant, starved. She moved out west, starved and became a poet. She is the author of "Words of a Feather Hawked Together" and “Swans of the Boundary Waters.”