They swim through the sky waters, <br /> heading south, <br />Rippling like a beaver’s swim, <br /> wood in his mouth. <br /> <br />Wild geese sense <br /> when and where to go. <br />Busy beavers know <br /> what to do. <br />It’s we humans who mix the order <br /> with disorder. <br /> <br />I wonder if the birds know the reason, <br /> the ducks, geese, and doves all in season <br />When they hear the cracking of the guns, <br /> why those hunters hunt them all for fun. <br /> <br />I wonder if they know the game, <br /> the elk, the deer, and the moose, <br />When all those hunters are on the loose, <br /> for whom hunting is no shame. <br /> <br />Do they wish that man were extinct, <br />changed into stone like the sphinx? <br /> <br />Nature’s signs, nature’s time. <br /> <br />Never knew a mother who loved dying so much <br />to see her children returning to dust. <br /> <br /> - August 22,2006<br /><br />Ben Gieske<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nature-s-signs-nature-s-time/
