On Little Lake St. Germain, an eagle
shadows our rowboat. Over a couple
of decades back, DDT thinned out their
eggs. Once plentiful raptors became rare.
When the poisoning ended, they returned,
so the lake looks more as it did when I
was a kid. I’d like to think that we’ve learned
how even the strongest can quickly die—
I picture polar bears, thin Arctic ice
melting under their paws—they pay the price
for our greed. I try to enjoy two loons
diving and rising, diving and rising,
but it’s no use. The Earth gets awful wounds.
Our nightmare hands can strangle anything.
—Ken Pobo, Media, PA