Poetry calling for Stewardship

By Crystal Nichols

The Stream

It teems with life

A garter snake glides along the shallows

Past a camouflaged Pacific tree frog

Silently, the speckled dace swims below, unobserved by most

Even more mysterious still are the macros

Hidden under the rocks and in the plants is where they reside

They lack a backbone, but not the intricacies of beauty

The winged things fly overhead and call out, and rustle the willow on the banks

The willows rattle and grasses whistle their own unique song,

As the stream adds its own babbling tune

Off in the distance, a cow moos

A reminder of the past of this special place

There I am, insignificant in the grand scheme,

Reading the stream, learning its twists and turns

As Mount McLoughlin watches over diligently

We have done so much to Mother Earth, taken so much

We owe her any stewardship we can muster

But, in the end she knows what is best for her stream