Clouds of dust rise to the peak of the mountain spire as it busts the protective view that
Acid has put blight to this placid scene
of power and might, formerly a vista of uninterrupted might.
What might become of this destructive scene, can it be undone, will it again invoke the
clean, serene scene that it once gave before the smoke of acid rain created an above
Choke, smoke, like poking a fire the majestic Frasier’s melt away from the scene like
glaciers that perspire.
Bear over there, does it dare take a drink from the fountain of acid or does it drink from
the lake deceptively placid?
Birds tweet and flutter, do they build a nest in this dead tree like a mouse in a hollowed
Will the rhythm and time of natural cycles heal these wounds inflicted by the obsessed
progress of us who are partners in crime?
Richard J. Long