courtesy: http://www.pic2fly.com
Bred to be resilient, this earth
and all its faces, from stern to joyful,
offer sustenance to each of us
unequally. We find our place
eventually incorporated
into the fertile mulch of mankind
always ready for a storm.
Close to the ground, we trust
upon the old-time gods
to herd the winds our way
with young deities-in-training
to gather the renegades, black
clouds refusing to settle
against the Sierra’s jagged grin
to feed our rivers, creeks and streams—
myths more cryptic and credible
than today’s gadgetry designed to be
tomorrow’s useless obsolescence, yet
with the all the right apps
we can give-up on dreaming,
even believing in ourselves.
drycrikjournal 
As usual, so beautiful, timely.
Thank you,
Evelynne
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I could have titled it: ‘Ode to Old People’.
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wonderful poem, definitely speaks to me!
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Good. Makes me feel good too.
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Yes, myths become reality even in our tech saturated world. Where would we be without something to believe in, to wait and pray for. The beauty of a myth is that it can be read so many ways, so easy to make it yours. Tech is so transient that what works today does not tomorrow, so it is impossible to believe in or understand.
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Our brave new world!
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This creation is worthy piece for a book. I love the line ” fertile mulch of mankind.”
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I liked the sound of it too. Thanks!
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