When spring comes
The birds begin thatching
The wren
Weaves a small basket
The swallow her vessel of clay

Down in the fen
There are beavers
Busy with the felling of trees
Damming
While the spider spins her silver net
From blade to blade

Hunting, harvesting, fabricating, navigating
Thousands of years ago my ancestors examined you all
You freely taught them your ways
And they
Survived

Now we build highways and skyscrapers
Porn sites and cathedrals
Computers and ballistics
And think we’re so much better
Because of it
But let me not forget

Let me not forget

 -- James Krueger