They huddled in the trees along the banks of the creek watching the orange digger approach. This was their creek, along which they used to play, along which they danced and sung and celebrated the turning of the seasons.
The concrete paths got laid, the fences were built, the pile of stone and metal got larger and larger. How shall we fight it, they cried, how shall we keep our creek, how shall we get the power we need to save it.
The digger came closer, threatening…
They banded together and called down the strongest power they knew – they called the Sun, harnessed it, trapped it in the creek.
Now they ask themselves – how shall we use this power.
image: Renee Hobbes