A Cousin to the Sycamore

When I travel by canoe, by bicycle, by crutch,

by foot or by wheelchair

I am part of this wide world

 

I am in and of and with the earth and

the earth with me.

 

I am a cousin to that sycamore

over yonder, at the river's edge

and part of that titmouse

dancing in her branches

I am part of that simpering stream that

empties into the river and

that ancient turtle

slipping beneath her rolling waters

 

I am part of those jackrabbits scattering from

them blackberry brambles

where that mockingbird sat

just minutes ago

before she flew away towards that stream

of which I am a part

 

We sometimes speak of "the Environment"

as if it were this

Thing

separate and apart from us

and us from it

but we're not

At least not until we choose to be so