The cycles of birth, growth and death cannot be escaped from,
But they may be morphed.
I plant my garlic in April and my tomatoes in November.
Commercial growers in their irrigated, temperature-regulated greenhouses,
Plant any time of the year.
My veggies are in soil enriched with manure and compost,
Mulched with old straw.
Commercial veggies may not even have their feet in the earth,
But in an NPK chemical-cocktail.
My fruit feels the cold of frosts, moisture of rain,
And has the light of the Sun and Moon on its flesh.
Commercial Fruit, gassed, waxed and polished is stored the long year.
And while I like to follow the patterns of nature,
As a human being:
I still use artificial light to stay up later than my body finds healthy.
I travel in a carbon-spewing vehicle much faster than my two legs can transport me.
I regulate my behaviour to the machinations of human society,
And bow to the responsibilities of its membership.
I work in an air-conditioned, artificially-lit and computerised building.
I buy products wrapped in packaging that takes an eon to decompose.
I follow like a sheep, the commercialised festivals of the year,
All of which I abhor.
I am a consumer!
How to reclaim the natural cycles of being a human animal?
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