Scorching sun upon my back,
Pick in hand and shovel in my pack,
The crimson earth rests beneath my feet,
Concealing treasures held beneath.
Enchanted reality surrounds me,
Materializing an image in my mind,
Rainforests dominate the bone-dry landscape,
And giants walk where the minute crawl.
This Earth had never seen such glory,
Until those greatest of reptiles came to pass.
Nor has this glory been seen since,
Nor will it be seen again.
For this world has met its match
In the machines of man.
And in the grasp of his strangling mechanization,
Will mother nature fall at last?
Original watercolor © by S. W. Veatch