Words Made To Go Astray Poem by Ronald Sherrod

I knelt by a babbling brook one day
To list to the bubbles play.
To my surprise, you may surmise,
I thought I heard them say: "Where were you when we laid the sand,
A bed not made by hand?
And where were you when we spread the silt,
Soil quilt for all nutrients built? Were you not in the clay, O man,
Asleep through the timeless span,
Til carbon had spiraled enough to awake
And earth's cycled will forsake? We've been here many times, no end,
Borne by the sun and wind;
Til chilled and huddled together as rain,
Then here we are again. You could have chosen to drink from us,
To refresh yourself each day.
Instead you chose to channel us
To carry your waste away. Hear these words ere you go too far,
And lose your yesterday.
Love is naught but to know you are
A part in one grand play." As I arose, engrossed in thought,
Astonished, you might say,
Inside bobbed up that line long sought,
"A spark in one grand fray."