Geese fly free above the clouds, mingled with trees, wind, machinery of the present day. Are they oblivious to the madness happening below their noses? Or do they not care and simply fly past in willful ignorance to escape? Perhaps they know wiser, thereby continuing on with their innate direction and ways of being that have proven to work for their time immemorial.
Upon their spring return, the birds fly in silent mode, shocked by the tomfoolery below, the nonsense, the chaos… that serves but one species. The trees that they once soared through and above are no longer, their waterholes paved in, the land and air they once shared with all creatures replaced by towers of concrete which offer only buzzing confusion that clashes with the roar of engines and noises of people below.
The birds cackle nonetheless. They know this land will return to its former state. The people, those oblivious of this former marshland, who are consuming and being consumed like vultures, stand in a place once shared equally by all creatures large and small. The earth will pull the madness down, sinking, rising waters, whatever you prefer. Sooner rather than later. Surprisingly even.
Drowning all that tore it from its former beauty.
The birds cackle. Half in anticipation. Half in sadness.