Just a short observation and inner speculation...

Standing on the edge, 
twisted branch breaks way 
colors, explode beneath gray water 
a man walks to me and says; 
"We cannot build here, they say 
that Mangroves are in our way." 
what a shame, he's shaking his dark head 
A cell in me jumps up to agree, 
for what a joy to erect a cabin, 
some structure upon 
this paradise by the sea... 

I gaze at the coral reef hidden under 
sunlit waves 
'a single touch-a piece dies,' 
the divers caution 
yet I recall reaching for it like gold, 
a Midas touch will destroy 
even a tiny pink branch of its brittle beauty 

"Am I a victim of my own grasping?" 
I ask this stranger, so angry that his own reaching hand has been slapped 
by the rules, 
"Like Butterfly wings, I touch without thinking," I tell him. 
I touch without thinking-and the insect crumbles 
never belonging to me, yet I continue to swipe these delicate gifts, fancied only as possesions, rather than 
settling for a satisfied gaze, 
I'll never tame beauty with touch nor taste 
How could it be that the whole world does not belong to me? 

"We don't want the world," the stranger argues, "Only this small piece, a tiny parcel. Is it too much to ask for? A new home by the sea?" 

"The Mangroves should stay," I say. 

the man's face churns red, 
"Oh, one of those," he huffs, his arms 
unfolding in a circle, as if to hug a tree 
I watch, realizing I'm one of him, 
but only in soiled spirit 
when I used to want everything my own way, 
though I try to understand 
this sudden cleansing of my soul 

I need to walk backward a while, 
hovering too long on two legs, 
is a stature certain to be 
self-absorbing 
The winds have turned me inside-out 
I still like improvement-but more naturally 
Must we fight nature with such aggressive fists, a fighting pose that will certainly 
turn back on us in the shape of a sword? 

You know better than I what the sea needs, I whisper alone in the dark 
The knotted limbs of the old Mangroves 
are no longer mere shadows to me, 
they bow politely to sundown, 
like sleepy sheperds, gently guarding 
all this ocean against so many 
two-legged wolves.