And I Worry

Sometimes I talk too much,
I think too much,
And I worry.

But when I listen,
I hear the cries of the mockingbird,
Leary of human hands
Close to her nest.

I hear beeping earthmovers
Backing up,
Burying the coyote tracks.

I hear rabbits
Scurrying into brush,
The last remaining green life along the creek.

The limestone bank
Is scraped and
The creek filled
So the retirement community won’t sink.

When I listen to the sounds of dying Nature, I think
What can I do?
Who can I tell?
And I worry.

...christy tinsley-ilfrey, sept 2006