Steward of the Earth (I Am)
There once was a steward with a green, lofty dream,
Whose composting habits were the subject of meme.
With recycling bin stacks reaching the sky,
They swore to save forests and never let them die.
They’d battle pollution, wielding a sharp broom,
Dressed in burlap and twine, a modern-day flume.
Every paper straw was a sworn enemy,
Their crusade for the earth often read as a comedy.
Their carbon footprint was a mere ghost of a trace,
As they hugged every tree and grimaced at waste.
They preached of the virtues of grass and clean seas,
While quizzing the neighbors on their usage of keys.
Their garden was lush, but the lawn was quite dire,
Only native plants could climb that towering spire.
With organic crusades and a garden of dreams,
They’d lecture the squirrels on composting schemes.
In a world where the trash bins are filled with disgrace,
This steward sought balance, yet kept a grimace on their face.
Their bike was their chariot, their helmet a crown,
In a space where the greenest were always profound.
Their ethos was strong, like a mantra of old,
For they knew every action was a tale to be told.
Yet despite their grand gestures and endless green fight,
They’d laugh at their shadow and the trash it ignites.