The Angry Ocean Calls

Gleneden BeachBy Bob Ferris
Acidic and angry, the ocean—
father and mother of us all—
Storms past amputee sea stars
And oysters with half shells
Bent not on revenge but  
inevitable correction.  
But our commercial tendrils 
Continue to flail unaware
And careless
Whipping wildly cross the globe.
While the waves build
And peril accumulates.  
The bell in the boat shed
Rings and rings again
In emergency tones
But we are deafened 
Made so purposely  
By those whose ears
Hear but one note
Played by a golden whistle.
And leadership?
We certainly have those
Who claim that mantle
But bray about progress
And great voyages 
Yet have never raised anchor
From a dark and destructive past.
Those in their idle and mired boats
Are cheered by those created 
Expressly by their negligence.
Like cave fish they have
Lost their vision and
Discernment from disuse.  
But the wave still comes
Whether seen or not.
So we are left to sink 
or swim.  
Unled and ill-served
Until we realize the wisdom 
Of the bristlecone, clams and Greenland shark.
We need to manage and serve ourselves 
And think in centuries not seconds
Systems and not status
And lead our lives and loves accordingly.
Bandon, Oregon November 2013
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!  Please take a moment to rest up, because we certainly have some work (and fun) ahead of us on forests, wolves, and the wild places we all love and need!
Bob Ferris