Figure 1: Dcoetzee, Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Fifty-four years ago today, peace activist John McConnell’s dream of a day dedicated to the Earth and peace happened. Now, almost my entire lifetime later, people throughout the world celebrate today as a reminder of how precious our planet is. Frank Tassone, here, and delighted to host another Haibun Monday, where we blend prose poetry and haiku into that hybrid poem Basho made famous. Today, let’s join in the world’s celebration of Earth Day!

Earth Day is an annual event on April 22 to demonstrate support for environmental protection. First held on April 22, 1970, it now includes a wide range of events coordinated globally by EARTHDAY.ORG (formerly Earth Day Network)^[1] including 1 billion people in more than 193 countries.^[2][1][3] The official theme for 2024 is “Planet vs. Plastics.” 2025 will be the 55th anniversary of Earth Day.^[4][5]

I missed the first one by just under 7 months. I did, however, participate in the 20^th Earth Day. Students at then-SUNY-Binghamton (now Binghamton University) took to the Peace Quad for a day of Environmental awareness, peace—and an outdoor concert featuring Bob Marley’s band, the Wailers.

This year, Earth Day focuses on another perennial threat to the environment: plastic.

The theme for Earthday.org 2024 is Planet vs. Plastics and to mark that Earthday.org has called for a 60% global reduction in plastic production by 2040.^[136]

In November 2023, to bring public attention to the health threat that microplastics pose, earthday.org released its report Babies vs. Plastics, which collated some of the latest science on the subject. The Guardian newspaper carried an Op Ed about the report highlighting that it is the children of the Global South who are being the most impacted by exposure to microplastics.^[137][138]

Haijin and poets have participated in Earth Day:

Earth Day, 2022

juice in our beards—
we craved imported melons
but since they now thrive
in Arctic sun
we can grow our own

The thrip – infinitesimal black bug from the pot of chrysanthemums that arrived yesterday – hydroplanes across my screen. I stop reading the latest report about the imminence of humanity’s death, describing events far away, unbelievable. I call my husband to watch this barely visible creature who has no original sin, who lives a few weeks, who would almost certainly survive a nuclear meltdown far longer than us, this speck of life complex as the galaxies.

At eight, I knew beyond doubt that we’d die slow, painful deaths when Russia blew up the world because I did not pray the rosary fervently enough. In my twenties, it seemed more likely we’d die slow, painful deaths caused by our smog and pollution. Then it was starvation because the earth couldn’t support so many billions. Then . . . maybe we’d kill all of our kind through a thousand thousand injustices. In my late seventies now, we are all going to die, boiling like unwary frogs basking in the hotpot.

I, personally, am likely to die. No acceptance, but there it is. I’ve marched, prayed, given money, served on boards and committees, recycled, alone, with kindred spirits. They all accomplished something worthwhile, and there is an infinite need for more.  I begin to doubt that we will die only because of something people did.  Love binds us all, daily amidst terror and grief. And nature reclaims our cells, one by one, inexorably. Me, and the thrips, and the rest of the living creatures entwine our minutes together in silence, in songs and eccentric dance until we are worn out, used up, and recycled into earthworms and stars.

Teri White Carns
Anchorage, Alaska, USA,

Drifting Sands May 29, 2022

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Earth Day on the Bay

Gary Soto

1952 –

Curled like a genie’s lamp,
A track shoe from the 1970s among seaweed,
The race long over, the blue ribbons faded,
The trophies deep in pink insulation in the rafters.
Perhaps the former distant runner sits in his recliner.

The other shoe? Along this shore,
It could have ridden the waves back to Mother Korea,
Where it was molded from plastic,
Fitted with cloth, shoelaces poked through the eyelets,
Squeezed for inspection.

I remember that style of shoe.
Never owned a pair myself.
With my skinny legs I could go side-to-side like a crab,
But never run the distance with a number on my back,
Never the winner or runner up heaving at the end.

I bag that shoe, now litter, and nearly slip on the rocks.
Gulls scream above, a single kite goes crazy,
A cargo ship in the distance carrying more
Of the same.

Courtesy of the American Academy of Poets

Today, let’s celebrate our home planet in style! Write a haibun that alludes to Earth Day or the Earth.

New to haibun? The form consists of one to a few paragraphs of prose—usually written in the present tense—that evoke an experience and are often non-fictional/autobiographical. They may be preceded or followed by one or more haiku—nature-based, using a seasonal image—that complement without directly repeating what the prose stated.

New to dVerse? Here is what you do:

• Write a haibun that alludes to the Earth or Earth Day.
• Post it on your personal site/blog.
• Include a link back to dVerse in your post.
• Copy your link onto the Mr. Linky.
• Remember to click the small checkbox about data protection.
• Read and comment on some of your fellow poets’ work.
• Like and leave a comment below if you choose to do so.
• Have fun!