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Here is a small poem about a big subject:

Listen, my parents,
the grasses are crawling,
the trees are all thrumming.
Soon, birds won’t be able to sing.
Listen. Hear me. Our time 
is for turning. If the old ways don’t die, we can’t win.

*

Listen, my children:
our grasses are crawling,
our trees, yes, they’re thrumming,
birds know what they know as they sing.
Listen. Hear it. True time.
It’s still calling. Lay down your despairing. Join in.

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Orna Ross
Author: Orna Ross

Orna Ross is an award-winning novelist and poet, advocate for self-publishing and, as Director of the Alliance of Independent Authors, "one of the 100 most influential people in publishing" (The Bookseller).