There is a plot of land near my home which once housed an abundance of flora and fauna.
Turtles, birds, rabbits, snakes, wild dogfennel, pines, periwinkles, alamandas and southern river sage thrived in this space which now boasts only an open plot of beige mounds, cement cylinders, and monstrous machines.
I grimace at its "progress" daily.
Across the street, a large patch of wildflowers sit up and gaze upon this scene.
Day after day, Erupting from the blue-eyed grass, A family of spanish needle and Mexican petunias turn their blooms toward the beeping and the clunking of machines.
White peacock butterflies and red-tipped dragonflies dance around the feeding bees. I see this, and am reminded that there will always be destruction and there will always be greed. And we can lose ourselves in the sadness of it and become hopeless, angry, and bitter, or we can be like the flowers and continue to provide and bloom in the face of it.