Ask Not - a Trash Talk

"I think that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree."

Joyce Kilmer
(1886 - 1918)

Two rambunctious children, my brother and I,
We loved to play out in the forest.
Together, we'd tromp through the brambles nearby
And argue about who was sorest.

We'd stop for a snack with a big sack of sweets;
And bury the bag by the birch trunk.
Discarding the evidence there of our treats,
We thought not that we'd left behind junk.

Till one afternoon, we encountered a man,
Who sat by himself on a stump there.
He fingered his beard, and he watched as we ran,
Then called out, "Hey, kids, what you got there?

"Our dear Mother Nature's a jealous old broad,
Who will not stand by for destruction.
Our looting, polluting should just be outlawed,
Our planet deserves reconstruction."

We stood by the path, as the wind softly blew,
As he addressed me and my brother:
"Ask not what your Mother can do here for you
But what you can do for your Mother!"