The Spill
The Spill
They oiled an eagle for me today.
Its wings were stilled so I might
play.
But you say I live far away
From field and beach and White Tail's
lay.
The items that sustain me there,
Require oil to make them fare.
Then I'm the one I rage against,
A danger to its countenance.
If I'm to save the wilderness,
I must tread lightly outside the
fence.
For I'm the problem you see,
Yes, I am they and they are me!
WRITTEN
AFTER THE EXON VALDIEZ OIL SPILL!
I
probably wrote this sometime around 1985.
Its tone surprises me now in 2010. Could I really have been that liberal
at age 42? Now my personal choices seem to run contrary to my earlier plea to
tread lightly or do they?
The truck and camper place me directly on the edge of wilderness within reach of the interior without disruption to the environment that recreational development causes. There is no pristine avenue of access to the wild things in this overdeveloped world.
Our lightweight wonder fabrics certainly carry a much higher environmental cost than natural wool. Jumping off to aerobic pursuits from high end resort facilities places an extensive development tax on the environment.
At the age of 66 I may soon be limited to the distance beyond wilderness boundaries that I can achieve. I will lose the capacity for extended wilderness travel, but I will never lose the desire to smell the sweat air after a rain and hear the crows announce a new day. My truck and camper get me to the edge and when I leave the rain will wash away my tracks. That is the best I can do for us both.
I will be denied access to the interior by reduced physical capacity. Those more fit must look after the core, as I guard the portal. We should all enjoy our pursuit in such a way as to disturb our respective zones as little as possible?
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