Oh, field of grass,
Ravaged by concrete catacombs,
Smothered mass, asphalt cask.
Unlike stories from ancient tomes—
Here, not even birds roam.
Oh, field of grass,
Brown bristles swaying in the wind,
Brash with lifelessness.
Humanity's sin—plastic soaked ground within,
Apathy, a collective unconsciousness,
Oh, field of grass.
Oh, field of nature's trespass—
Bottles, bags, and needles amass.
Parking lot dust, cars, and trucks,
Human creatures now outlast—
The beauty of nature's past,
Faded like a photo in a worn clasp.
Mowed down like machine gun fire,
Heat of the concrete, nature's vampire.
No room for play, not even an umpire.
Shadeless trees—totems to Anubis,
Once aureus, now—shadow of human hubris,
Oh, field of grass.
Oh, nature's land mass,
Once prairie, pond, or forest,
Now nary a songbird's chorus.
Lady Justice, her figure malnourished,
The natural balance, now—
Brutalist flatlands, now squarrous.
Oh, progress, oh humanity.
Taming of the shrew, pollinators too,
Polymer rebirth, that is our curse, for—
What was reaped, never had a choice.
What was taken, never had a voice,
Oh, field of grass.