I was blessed with a backyard Eden.
Cardinals chorus in the tree canopy
And robins roost under my screen porch.
A red-tailed hawk circles a cerulean sky,
A hummingbird zigzags through the zinnias,
And blackbirds brawl over sunflower seeds.
An owl asks “Who cooks for you?” by night
And scores of sandhill cranes bugle by day.
A troop of turkeys tramps through the grass,
A wary blue heron keeps watch in the sedge,
And a mallard duo dips under the duckweed.
Observing from my perch near a tree-lined pond
I have seen or heard three dozen avian varieties,
And yet three billion birds have disappeared!
It’s hard to grasp that so many songs are silent.
Although a colossal effort kept bald eagles piping,
No ivory-billed woodpecker has kented since ‘44.
Human activity could mute hundreds more species.
Diverse habitats are downgrading to grass lawns,
Tantalizingly overlit cities are disrupting migration,
And pesticides are poisoning the food chain.
God’s metaphorical eye may be on the sparrow
But believers are putting Kirtland’s Warbler at risk.
Biblical dominion over the fauna of the planet
Means that we are the stewards of a garden
Placed in our care a long, long time ago.
— Chris Clark, March 2024
Chris Clark 