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I

First thing on earth on birth if ye had done
Was ‘cry and breathe’, and survive every day…  
Then on O man, had ye her blessings won,
She’d not be in a state so dire today.
Had ye truly believed as ye profess
That Mother Earth’s beholden to no man,
It’s he who is— that she goes on to bless,
She’d never be so weary, weak and van.
She never was, nor is in a hurry,
Her nature is to do what needs be done,
Had ye shown even a wisp of worry,
She won’t have gone green to grey and barren. 
    If each, a true Earth Day had ever been,
    Would ye find on your face such silly grin?                 

II    

No such grin… had ye treated her as should, 
Ye scarce did care nor yet know what ails earth,
But desert her ‘pon plundering all worth,
Ye deserve if she shows her irate mood. 
You’re keen to know Sun, planets, all the space, 
Not, why her green garment shows early dearth, 
Nor ye worry on loss of her vast worth, 
Nor yet your thoughts go to her aging face.
Not life on earth, you love all things alien, 
Hasten to heal some heaven-bound headaches, 
Her fever, melting frost, nor why she quakes, 
But muse on Saturn's moons and things Martian…. 
    If every day had dawned as your Earth Day,
    Would that strange smirk on face survive to stay?  

III    

Sure, no such smirk nor ever grin would stay
On a face whose heart heaves for Mother Earth
Who’s getting grey from lush green by the day,
So, better rid O man your idle mirth,
And shift your sight afar from so shorter,
Do what needs be done, there’s no time to wait,
Long have ye stared blank as mute spectator,
Be not one to frame your own fatal fate.
Today, Earth’s fuming with long subdued ire,
And like an escapist, ye  plan to ditch
Her, be not such a feeble-heart ostrich,
There’s not much time ere deparate turns dire.
  Else, breathless you will have to cry when die, 
  Just as ye did on birth— the last well nigh.
________________________________________
Sonnets | 03.01.2005, revised in July 2023| 

Poet’s note:  This is a chain of three sonnets making a so-called crown. The last line of the preceding sonnet is not repeated verbatim as the first line of the next here. Instead, the point raised therein is answered in a way that establishes a link.
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