Burning hot, temperature rising. Blazing black asphalt, warming waters, dirt, hot to the touch.
Freezing cold. Finger tingling, bone numbing. Limbs of trees heavy with ice. Snow where there was no snow before. Frozen.
Driving rains, falling in sheets. Flooding, creeks and rivers rising over banks. Highways turned flowing, floating away. Swollen.
Dry as a bone drought. Deer with bloated bellies, fish, bones bleached white in the sun. Sky no clouds. No water. Dead.
Wind, Strong, blowing bare soil into dust. Raising waves, monster storms, spinning, gathering speed. Horizontal rains, trees snapped like twigs. Violent, destructive. Re-birth.
Time was, you could count on the dates of first frost. Plan for it, put the garden to bed, harvest the sweet potatoes, last of the tomatoes. Birds timed their flights by it. Wings unfurling, stretched strong on winds to carry South.
Time was, you could count on the dates of last frost. Plant the seeds, put the ‘taters in the ground, watch the bright colored feathers fly home to nest. Listen to the insects, night noises, hatching out. alive.
Time was, you knew when the rains came. Helped the plants to grow. Watched the tender tendrils creeping over rock and ground. Watched the puddles fill, frogs lay their eggs, strands of slippery DNA. Cool, fertile, rich.
Can’t count on it.
Time was, you could count on the dry times. Puddles dried, water gone underground, into sky. Fruit ripened on hot summer days. Large leaves mildew free, sun kissed. Damp under rocks, dry on top. Happy, healthy, whole.
But we cut the trees.
With chainsaws, bulldozers, burned the rest for a clear cut. Black smoke filling the skies. Open, barren, charred, hot.
And we burned the ancient fossils for fuel. More black smoke. Blotting out the sun, choking. Charred. Hazy smog. Enveloped the earth in chemicals, poisons, dark and dim.
And we keep on doing it.
Even as the giant, icy glaciers melt, waters running fast, clear, cold to the sea. Polar ice caps disappearing under the padded feet of the bears.
Even as the oceans rise. Rise and warm. Freshwater mixing with salt. Too much, too little. All wrong.
Even as the global temperatures rise and fall. Each day a broken record. Hotter than the last, colder than the last, wetter than ever recorded before.
Seasons broken, scrambled. Cherry buds in winter, snow in the fall.
Droughts for 10 years, 20. Decades. A century.
Floods, monsoons, tornadoes, hurricanes, tsunamis.
Gone. Species. ecosystems, towns. seaside cities. whole worlds.
A warming, heating, changing.
It is our undoing,
this constant unrelenting need to consume.
And even as the world burns up, our appetites never cool.
Some say its’ too late, the scale has tipped, we’re
sing a song of transformation,
Find a new way to live they say,
and we might have a slight chance yet,
of stopping the runaway train,
the maddening march of
A world gone crazy.
We are at the tipping point. Place of no return.
Forged from the fires of endless bad decisions.
And the empty blindness of eyes that do not see,
and hearts that cannot feel.
Maybe hell is real.
And we are burning.
To learn more:
Thank you for listening,