Plastic Warfare

The clouds floated on the face of

the water, which flowed

silently under branches of trees.

Nothing moved

nothing stirred

but the grey water.


Up above the sun shone

cloaking the trees in burning heat

and searing the ground;

charring the last

vestiges of grass

that were not burned

by the salt laced stream.


The sun fell below

the far off horizon

kindling a breeze,

which blew through the

now empty hostile heartland


and plastic pieces 

bowled along the broken earth

surviving silently in a scape

devoid of the living.

Too Late!


The flowers wilt on the wracked earth,

there are no buzzing bees,

temperatures soar untempered,

children stare out of slits in curtains

closed against the searing sun.


It was an emergency, now


emerges change was too late.

Nothing growing on the farms

where water has not been

husbanded. While, in the 

fields the bones of animals

point to the sky 

and their fallen

fetid flesh 

a troubling echo.


A gift we had of 

green Springs and golden Autumns;

we loved more

the fuel driven 

excoriating Economy 

ignoring the prophetic voices

crying in the rain.


Politicians will hide behind

banalities and excuses

asking for patience

while blaming