Cleaning It Up Poem by robert dickerson

Empty Bachmans' Golden Crisp
All Natural potato Chip bag
Cartwheeling across the Great Lawn
toward my spot-alone
among my fellows I stop your loopy flight.
For unfeigned love of the Earth
catch you, crumple you, stash you in a sack
for eventual disposal-.
for unfeigned love of the Earth.
God, may it someday help me
when we are called to give account.
May it somehow help me,
this tiny act, in the final balance.