Look up--
we see you
from the edge of quiet forests,
from beneath the waves
where light is a memory.

We do not speak your language,
but we feel your footsteps,
heavy
on roots,on wings,
on shells that crack unseen.

The trees remember
before you arrived.
The rivers still carry
the weight of what you forget.

You build,
you burn,
you name yourselves caretakers--
but the nests are empty,
and the coral jo longer sings.

Slow down.
Listen to the soil breathe.
There is no replacement
for the hum of a bee,
for the trial of a paw
through untouched snow.

We are not your silence.
We are warning
wrapped in feather,fin,and leaf.
And we are watching.