A Deep Sadness

A Deep Sadness (A Rondeau Redouble´)

There’s a deep sadness when I look at nature now.
My children will never see what I’ve seen,
and their children will never experience the wow
of American wilderness- deteriorating, picked clean.

There’s an elegiac quality in losing the mythic dream,
American frontier, our own timely tale of how
we came to be and what to others we intend to mean.
There’s a deep sadness when I look at nature now.

Almost a betrayal of our forefather’s sacred vow
to protect and preserve the quality, the bright sheen
of America’s heritage, the luster on the nation’s brow.
My children will never see what I’ve seen,

crystalline wild rivers rushing through forests green,
unpaved paths meandering like a ship’s prow
over uncharted waves. The vision of America is lean.
My grandchildren will never experience the wow.

Nature’s modern transformation I do sadly avow.
Through my tearful eyes her lost grandeur is plainly seen
I shall never become accustomed to the now
of American wilderness-deteriorating, picked clean.

I dream of decades past, lush, verdant, serene-
days long before the highway, bulldozer or plow-
un-crowded days where life was less obscene.
There’s a deep sadness now.