Michael Schlesinger is a poet
I’m not sure how I got this — the to line on the email is not me — but it appears that Mr. Schlesinger is a prose poet. I received this email this evening.
I have an insect friend – a lone wasp clinging to my refrigerator, 11
days into winter.
S/he/it seems sad and forlorn, and me also about her/him/it.
T’was there last night, when first I encountered my new friend.
T’was there this morning and early afternoon before I went to give the
final exam in my Climate & Climate Change course.
Is there now.
I have just smeared some honey beneath my new friend, not knowing
whether or not this would be food therefor.
But, s/he/it is doomed, as is an annual flowering plant.
So too am I, hopefully sometime later.
So too are all of us, eventually.
We need to take care of each other.
We need to take care of others who cannot take care of themselves, for
We need to take care of our home planet, a singular and unique being
in our Solar System, and likely far beyond.
Fortunate we are to have her, Mother Earth.
Let’s keep her and all of us safe & well.
My little friend has been energized and is now actively consuming the
additional honey I have given her/him/it.
It does feel good to help a fellow Earthling.
Not that a scientist can’t have metaphysical leanings, but I find it interesting how quasi-religious this email sounds.