On my way to the dump
I passed rolling hills of green,
scatterings of buttercups,
boughs of purple wisteria
before I arrived at
a wasteland of discards –
mountains of cans, cartons, bottles,
cardboard, plastic, and who knows what.
I added my own collection of debris.
A large, cawing crow swooped by my car.
I couldn’t look him in the eye.
I just left.
JDG
aholdingplace 
I love the colors in this poem, Joan. If you threw out something shiny the crow might have been saying thank you. I hear they love shiny things.
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I know the shame of my behaviors relative to Mother Earth sometimes.
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