Gaia

The children are recalcitrant,
not grave enough, their cradle’s keep,
though now it seems the worm has turned,
mistreatment causing us ill health.

I’m told that senses, birds and beasts,
in classes, insects, schools at sea
exceed by far that of our own,
incredible capacity –
in sum of all, so little known –
their skill set way beyond our own
in both design and what achieved.

Their nighttime sight and smell of air,
what present, through antennae told,
the current wafting past, now here,
their navigation, flight and steer;
we are left stranded without peer,
the masterclass, bare arrogance –
these siblings that our mother bears.

They are not fostered, but of tree,
our family, yet we adopt
that illegitimate as view –
they foundlings due as workhouse serfs.

They nurture, feed us, keep us warm,
and let us drink while clothe our frame,
provide our comfort as required,
are subject to our every whim –
when even servitude abused.
It must be Gaia weeps withal.

Published by Medusa’s Kitchen, 19th April 2024

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/04/adventures-with-otis.html