The plane’s trajectory provided its passengers a bird’s eye view of New Mexico. Below, rectangles and odd-shaped lines proclaimed ownership of the land below. Multi-colored circles resembled pie charts no doubt replicated in board rooms across the country. An array of colors had been painted over a tan canvas like an artist pallet. In the distance, man-made ponds interrupted the landscape as did the screeching white wind turbines that poked toward the sky. The encroachment of man stretched as far as the eye could see.
Natural causes had affected Mother Nature’s smooth skin, as well. Portions of her raw flesh had crumpled where mountain ranges had sprouted like acne and had collapsed like wrinkles where rivers had formed. Parts of her still remained as she had intended. But as night descended, man once again commanded the scenery. City lights emboldened the sky in defiance of the sun’s disappearance.
Mother Nature is conquered under the brilliant glow. Perhaps, in time she will have the final word. Mother has been through this before. She knows that men are no match for wars and weather. She knows that when man leaves her land, the concrete will crumple and weeds and grasses will invade. Perhaps, her diversity will never be restored. In the end, though, she may be altered, but she will never be conquered.