We paid them no mind. They were part of a great and lofty organization, an organization which in it’s entirety had no concern for laws, legislation, human hopes, love, dreams, hate, wars, or infatuation. They were born and lived above all that, above us all.
They took what they needed, for the most part, without our knowing, our help, or concern. They lived and breathed, lived in and on their own plan, a plan beyond human struggle. If they struggled, we seldom paid heed to their effort to live.
When they have lived their life their struggle is over. They can only allow us a brief but memorable end of life. When they lived, they made our life easier, provided comfort and pleasure, and now, when we don’t need them any longer, they die, and fall away from their lofty estate, in a quiet dance of swirling and quiet beauty.
Do you pay them heed? Do you admire their dance? Or can you only see them as a nuisance, to be raked and bagged off the lawn under the trees?
By Writer Ray
© Copyright Writer Ray 2010 All rights reserved.
This poem is written by Nebraska Cowboy Poet and Author, Writer Ray. This poem appears here with Writer’s permission.