Just your typical Montana boy.
by Joshua W. Davis
Mountains above the cities rise,
On humanity's youth look with ancient eyes.
The racket and din of the children there;
Aromas of their digestion rise through the air.
Like babes unwilling to give up the suck,
Or gambling fools ever pressing their luck.
Cities of toddlers, teeming with those
Who know not what the Mountain knows.
Rivers of life through the unwitting pass,
But unwitting children make them a mass
Of all that their childish digestion spits out;
Soiling the garment of their brother, the trout.
Unwitting of siblings and of older kin,
Like brain-damaged children who know not they sin
When they strike out at relatives and elevate those
Who know not what the River knows.
What lessons would Mountains and Rivers give
To us, their children, whose lives depend
On Rivers and Mountains, in order to to live?
"To childishness," they say, "put an end."
"Live now as siblings upon the earth,
This life was not meant for just you alone.
Look now to your relatives and know you their worth.
This Earth was your cradle, now make it your home."
"Now quit being spoiled and spoiling the land,
Or Mother Earth may do more than just slap your hand."