I Call it Home

James R. Muri

Copyright, 1996

This great blue ball, lint-covered from south to north pole,
Is festooned with peaks,
Vast briny deeps,
And Plains that soften my soul.

I see the corn, pea-green and tassel-topped dancing.
Even-topped rows,
When the wind blows,
Are naturally fertilizing.

Wild rivers crash, tricanopied forests reach skyward,
While creatures below
In moist green glow,
Partake of God's Own Smorgasbord.

And wherever I go, some evidence of Human enchantment
Is there to be seen,
Seducing this queen,
Ensuring our future sustainment.

This planet's my home, and I love and adore its perfection.
It's all that I need
To replenish the seed
That guarantees natural selection.

But when I'm long gone, ten thousand generations from now,
My distant offspring
A former Earthling,
Will push some Arcturian plow.

And he'll pause to look up, see two suns in the brilliant blue sky,
And he'll feel just like
I feel tonight
And give thanks for "This sweet home of mine."

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