beginning of the end

In the dirty depths, he’s sculling, a majestic freshwater crayfish in the beautiful crystal stream.

He stays low ready to pounce at its harmless prey who is running for their dear life.

He stands bold and brave searching for his prey; his pincers are sharper than shark teeth.

Crackled spine, the vibrant colours he is the king of the river.

In the spotlight of deforestation punished for being a terrific creature, it isn’t right.

He is surrounded by plastic bottles, destroying homes isn’t the key.

He is used to scrambling through pots.

Blood pumping, heart fuming, he gets tugged up to the horrific surface.

Just not right, save us.