When the Last Raindrop Falls

As we take refuge inside again today from the heat and now the smoke from so many fires, I am saddened that this has become the norm for our summers up here in the Pacific Northwest.

I miss hiking, biking, sitting in our garden, and our morning and evening walks.

But we humans are lucky, because we can come indoors and get a break from the heat and smoke. Nature is not so fortunate.

We have a lot of wildlife on our property and I am seeing the toll the extreme, prolonged heat, and now the smothering smoke, is taking on it. The deer, birds, and the turkeys and their chicks seem agitated and exhausted, and it is oh-so sad to bear witness to.

I wrote this poem years ago when I thought things were pretty bad. Sadly, they have only gotten worse. We need to do better, my fellow humans. Hopefully we won’t be to late …

When the Last Raindrop Falls

Maybe when the last raindrop falls,

when we can no longer hear nature’s call

Maybe when the last tree is cut down,

and the last flower pulled from the ground

Maybe when the last eagle flies,

when the sun sets in a lonely sky

Maybe when the wolf loses its pack,

and its last howl is never answered back

Maybe when the last bee is gone,

we will finally see that we were wrong

Forsaking the truth for their lies,

and thinking the Earth would never die

Marie Kukula-Tyner

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