Her name is Gaia

She dreams to save all living things
And with them save the world.
She seeks to recognise each ant,
each butterfly, each beetle.
Like sweeping up the desert sands,
she numbers every one.
She cuts and digs and saves,
collates, conserves and tallies,
adds her finds to databases,
plots percentages and grieves.
Ponds and hedgerows know her,
quiet laneways feel her tread.
She wanders fields and woods by day,
pitfall traps laid, her net in hand,
sets lamps for moths by night.
And then she counts the tiny creatures
certain that if all of these should die
the world will be dead too.

She seeks to heal the sullied earth,
for she is the guardian of the world,
the protector of all life.