I want to do something that may last beyond me.
I doubt my writing will.
Maybe it will, if I get much better at it than I am now.
But I think the world has moved on, and is moving faster.
I do not think many people alive today will “last” the way their creative ancestors did.
The world is so different now, and it will be so different.
There are so many voices saying so many things, and that will only grow.
We are no longer great marble statues, enduring through the ages.
At best, we’re a good meal: enjoyable, healthful, giving both pleasure and sustenance
Living on, if at all, in the growth and strength we give to those we nourish.
Perhaps I will plant some honeybee-friendly flowers on the edge of our yard,
Far from where my daughter likes to play,
Where their buzz is faint, and their stingers out of reach.
Perhaps I can give them some sustenance, some strength
So they can hold on as a species
Beekeepers struggle to sustain their numbers, often failing
Wild bees dwindle
The species skitters across the slippery slope to extinction
If the bees go, a million plants go with them
Perhaps I’ll do the same for butterflies.
But these flowers I’ll plant in the heart of our yard
So we can see their stingless beauty up close
Perhaps this means I’ll write less
But create more.
And I am at peace with that;
A life lived wholly before a screen
Is no life at all.