My daughter stands next to the turbine’s
housing, a landscape soon to be erased by blades.
Pesticides burn like chemo. Leaves shrivel
and bounce back, but are never the same.
To consider chicory and dandelion, weeds.
To save the barn-cat and drown the kittens.
When I say landscape I mean flora and fauna,
small, wild strawberries and fire ants.
Solar panels pay more than the crop beneath
them. What is bird song in comparison?
Bats? Bees? Deer hips and shipwrecks beach
with sturgeon, bloated by children’s balloons.
—
Andrea England is a mother, partner, and poet living between Kalamazoo and Manistee, MI. She is the author of two chapbooks, and her poetry has appeared widely in journals. She earned her PhD in English and Creative Writing (poetry) from Western Michigan University. Growing up on a farm in the Midwest, and returning to the Midwest after 30 years has intensified her relationship and ideas about our current climate crises. When not teaching, she runs, hikes, and spends time with her family and dog, Una.
