A poem for Esther
Dick Goodwin's concern for the environment was woven through his life. He wrote in a poem dedicated to his wife:
Would'st come with me down through the fields and sunlit glades into the forest dim?
The breath of evening cools the brow, though high the noon.
The turgid stream glinting fills each trout pool to the brim
And rushes on, just as the precious hours that pass too soon.
This wonderful place of ours made mad by man,
Whose thundering jets draw lines across cloudless skies,
Where rivers hide in foam and atoms split by plan,
And pesticides pose threats to every living bug and bird that flies.
This world of ours has need of those who deeply care.
There's work for us to do this very day.
And joy attends this enterprise we share
Together. The apple has been plucked. We may not stay.