This is unsigned but there is no question in my mind it was written by Nanlee Haston. One of the few things of value out of the three times I was on Facebook was hearing from one of the young people who had been among my followers in those days of environmental activism. He told me Nanlee had finally been killed by one of the bad choices in men she kept making. I donated to the women’s shelter in her memory.

She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever known. The last time I saw her Janis and I were in Coconut Grove at Lum’s. I do not remember if we had planned to meet or just happened on each other. She was in dire straits and needed money. I remember I did not give her any. I hope it was because I did not have enough to give.

THE DAY MOTHER NATURE DIED

One day as mother nature lay dying

in a golden rod field, and a thousand

doves shed shadows across her smiling face

she composed her one and only will, left to tender man.

“I, being the only mother you’ll ever know,

realizing that you will be alone when I leave

you to yourself, do hereby will the following to

the following: may the wind and the rain be left

to the window pane; may the grains of sand be left

to the time keepers; may the wonders of lave and laughter

be left to the Everyone Lonlies and the old men and

the star-eyed virgins with visions of proud princes

in their minds, may the delights of pretending be left

to those Not Quite Satisfied With Practicality; and

may all these things be treasured always.

May the evergreen forests be left to the musicians

and the poets — for there is True Music in tall trees;

may the promise of tomorrow, the memories of one

yesterday, and the awareness of now be left to any

john doe, for these things have existed before this will knew ink.

May the knowledge of my death be carefully preserved

lest it be distorted and twisted into a cynical monster

as an excuse for insensitivity; most important I leave

to tender man, the hunger for life and the thirst for freedom.”

With this sweet piece my mother / your mother died

And only the doves remembered why.

Some say it was bitterness that killed her;

some say it must have been man’s sins against precious love;

and still a few Great Thinkers claim progress poisoned her

due to a necessary sacrifice of sincerity for progress.      

Whoever killed mother nature, neglected to burn her will.