Who can say now,
“When I was young, the country was very beautiful?
Oaks and willows grew along the rivers
and there were many herbs and flowering bushes.
The forests were so dense the deer slipped through
the cottonwoods and maples unseen.”
Who would listen?
Who will carry even the vicarious tone of that time?
In the old days
age was honored.
Today it’s whim,
the whelp without habitat.
Who will now admit
that he is either old or young
or knows anything?
All that went out with the forests.
