Morning dew rises, as the sun scrambles
Above the horizon as midday nears.
Right away, awakening my senses
Joining them in a varied splendid hue
Of beauty I have never encountered.
Rustling palm fronds and the swaying sawgrass,
Yet, I stare at the Everglades splendor,
Stretching horizons, boundless as blue skies.
Tidal waters drain the river of grass
Of all new vitality brought by spring.
No place like the Everglades exists on
Earth as it does in my very backyard.
Merely tranquility is what I sought,
And leaving solace disturbances in
Not so familiar surroundings for
Doing my part may not be enough now.
Only to realize her once beauty,
Underscored by the polluted soil.
Greatly respected by all those who have
Lived off the land for past generations
And future generations coming forth.
Sun sparkled, beautifully bounded as if
A tapestry were woven in a mixed
Nightmare of many colors in the sky.
Disappearing quickly, acres of land
Hopelessly scream for protection from the
Endless destruction towards her once beauty.
Reminiscing of the river of grass,
Remembering the many faceless names.
In the afternoon, the fiery sun
Victoriously forfeited to the
Ever present gathering gray clouds of
Rain storms of thunder, lightning and wind gusts
Of which seemed to arise before my eyes.
For the life she holds, some are not even
Grateful for the beauty she possess,
Rarely keeping her pristine armor whole.
As generations of families come,
So many leave feeling vacant while,
Someone else be fulfilled with inner peace.
Marjory Stoneman Douglas and her River of Grass
April 7, 1890 – May 14, 1998
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