The Mark of Man

by Trisha Von Thun

The fluttering aspens
the swaying trees
the running streams
the cool, cool breeze.

Flowers blowing in the wind
Animals wandering with their kin
When man comes through with his trucks and machines…
there will be no more running streams.

This was the very first poem that I can remember writing — a naturalist and outdoor girl at 8-years-old — some things never change.

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