Tis the jolly, holly season
when the leaves fall brown
and children’s conker filled hands
hide in their pockets,
while many watch the decaying colours
brighten the landscape.
—————
While stacked stocks of stifling
carbons wait their turn
to saturate the air and
of smooth the seasons out-
————————
Til, no frost and mist,
no multi coloured woodlands,
no dying back of flowers,
no need for scarves and gloves-
because
————————-
the temperature tips
and flowers flourish still,
butterflies dance in the garden
amidst the humming bees and
the strawberry patch with red fruit
fallen tell us boldly, that
the warming is worsening.
————————-
Nature is confused and birds
wonder at begetting again,
those sleepy ones who hide,
stray around
and yet the nightmare of a drought,
driving heat is in our land.
——————————
People march,’ Its an emergency,’
they cry, looking at the barred door
of boffins, and some think
to silence is a
strategy
for
survival.
