Poorer by the Minute

The fact is, you just like abundance.
You hate to see fewer stars, fewer
Colors in the coral reefs, fewer

Species—hate to hear fewer bird songs,
Fewer crystalline night silences—
For the same reasons there are fewer

Of those, now that you have ensured more
Of more things you love in abundance—
More brilliant lights, more seafood dinners,

More music pouring from instruments
Or thumping from powerful speakers.
If you could have more, more of it all,

Even just the sense that there was more
Out there—more African elephants,
More vast, unspoiled vistas, more wonders

In heaven and earth than imagined
In all your philosophies—you would
Feel no sense of outrage at a loss.

You love abundance abundantly,
And whatever isn’t threatening
You hate to see diminish. Poor things.