Looking west, the desert filled the limits
Of sight and imagination.
I turned to face the rising sun
And found a soft undulating green field
That started where my heels
Touched the demarcation of sand to grass.
There is a price we ought not to pay
To rid ourselves of the inconvenient sand.
What will limit us before the precipice?
Or are we agreed that some trades
Will have a small downside risk
That is well worth the gamble.
Who can stand outside the game,
Litmus in hand, ready to announce “STOP!”
In a voice that will be heeded?
How will we “green” the planet
If not one golf course at a time?
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