Canto CCC

A subspecies, a thin wind battered branch
sprung from the tree of life, has gone extinct.
Your home island that gave Darwin the hunch

that pushed special creation to the brink,
is destitute without your round footprints.
You’re set adrift, far from the recent stink

of greasy fingered eco tourists,
after wide lensed cameras replaced the guns
that bagged the naturalists’ prized exhibits.

George,you weren’t the only lonesome one,
though your death serves as something to remind
us that our own short lives will soon be done

and all that live are the last of their kind.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Jun 26, 2012 @ 14:33:02

    I’ve just returned from a holiday in Yorkshire and I have a backlog of Mundane Comedy to read…only 65 days left 🙂

    We watch the news and some of us think about it…Poets reflect these thoughts.

    I like the idea that Lonesome George and a poet in a South London garret have something in common.

    Reply

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