Dying Hill

Dying Hill, in acrylic, AVR 2010

How can I sing on this hill Maria's song,
"The hills are alive with the sound of music,"
Where I now stand is not what I knew then -
the music of the young, pure and angelic?

How can I hear Maria amidst cascading
Streams and waterfalls that never stop,
Rushing, hissing against boulders and rocks,
And precious soil washed from the top?

From here I watch the consequence of my act,
The trees I cut, the farm I did abandon

Have made me an orphan of nature, alas!
Lost is the beauty I wanted to own alone.~

Living with Nature, AVR