Man is too much.


I'm looking down the gentle hill, that used to lead to
the water mill.
Currents relaxed and smoothly flowing,
turned the paddles to the stone's slow grinding.

A millenia has passed since that mill closed,
The golden waters now sulk in a mire and wallow
in corrupted filth, while her bed clogs with toxic silt.
Man has swarmd across the hill and squandered all,
... this is our lasting legacy.

In the streets tall buildings press in,
and in the buildings more people are sweltering
in the rancid heat which billows
out across the street, over the water and
up the hill, bending Nature to its will.
Like aphids we suck on her golden sap,
how long before her boughs snap ?