Can't You See It Coming?
Fires crackle in the brittle trees
�bled dry by drought, the grass,
�bleached straw on the dusty hills
�where rain no longer falls
�in what used to be its season.
�
Polar bears fight to the death
�on floating islands of loose
�ice that once were solid.
�They are starving as sea bird
�nests float like uprooted bladderwrack.
�
Bread baskets of the plains
�will blow in the long arid winds
�as dust. The rice fields
�will go under rising tides.
�The only catch for fishermen—
�
huge beached shoals of dying
�creatures whose waters have
�grown lethally warm. What do
�we do to solve this disaster we
�are creating for all living
�
on this planet except beetles
�cockroaches and flies?
�We conquer more oil.
�We burn more oil and coal.
�We burn and we burn and
�
we burn. Our smoke rises
�stinking incense to the heavens
�while we drown our grand
�children in refuse and oily muck.
�Gentlemen, start your engines.
�
�
