What I Wouldn't Give for a Camera

What I wouldn’t give for a camera

to freeze this moment


and always.

To show people the richness of the soil;

how it clumps together -



alive with ants, worms, and tiny, crawling creatures.

How the grass sprouts up,

twitching in the wind,

reaching up and

grasping sunlight -

its unity with the dark brown dirt.

The old branches of the oak tree -

its shade

starving out the grass below

in a vicious

and natural cycle.

The breeze rustling the leaves of the solid branch

that struck out

away from

that tall, wise trunk.


What I wouldn’t give for a camera

to show the urgency

of the

tiny, little ant

crawling across my paper


searching for a single morsel of food

for his nest

that I accidentally interrupted

when I sat down to write

under the shade of wood.

Scurrying around in his absent hurry

on my piece of paper

that came from a different tree,

another lifetime away from here.

I wish I had a crumb

so I could fulfill his mission

and repay in some small, minute way,

my damage

to his home that I had just destroyed.

My footprints mark the soft terrain

much like we have dented

our precious Earth -

without purpose,

and unintentionally


But even though

we hurt this wonderful planet,

with our blind stumbling

and greedy buildings and concrete,

if we weren’t here,

who else would

celebrate it?

Who would write poems

about twitching grass

and rustling leaves?

Who would take the pictures?

Freeze the life it captures

on a piece of paper

stolen from a venerated pine

that had once lived

in a world much different from

the one we see.

To halt the intricacies,

in a 4x6 inch frame,

in a poor attempt

at showing the life

that is hidden,

breaching out from every blade of grass

and every grain of sand.


What I wouldn’t give for a camera

to take a picture

of a scene

that wouldn’t even


to grasp the life in this moment.




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