The Earth is a crystal ball you see
It holds the future for you and me
The crystal held within its sphere
Is salty brine or fresh, it's clear
The people who would make Earth "Mom"
Would truly like to read the palm
The outstretched one that You laid bare
To help them out of their despair
That drowns their thoughts of Providence
And takes away their common sense
As ebbing tide will wash the shore
Or springtime floods sweep forest's floor
There is this trouble about special providences--namely, there is so often a doubt as to which party was intended to be the beneficiary. In the case of the children, the bears, and the prophet, the bears got more real satisfaction out of the episode than the prophet did, because they got the children. -- Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar --
|Steephead or drainage swale in Murphysboro State Park|
Though SAM and I both were brought up in the '70s when Earth Day began to gather steam, we both find peculiar this strange fixation on the health of the planet. Who would have the audacity to think we (alive and present on this Earth) are any worse or better at changing the Earth--for the worse or better--than the generations that came before us? It takes a pudd'nhead, I guess.