An Earthly Climate

by on September 1, 2023 :: 0 comments

Part was the glide, part the silly dustup
on the square, the stench that pervaded the pup.
Part the smoothness, part the cutting satire of late-night TV,
the overweight local police. If I came to see
that I lived in a dream, OK, and if I lived in real time
all the time, then OK too. For in this clime
the great parade flooded from lowlands up to the crest
and everyone thought their voice was grand, the loveliest.
Even homeless at intersections held signs
saying they’d work for food, giving salutations divine.
Brick walls in old downtowns or open-air parks
that we looked on, were used for art.
In short, citizens were told they were free,
and they took it to heart, believed it to be.
On cruise ships casinos never shut, as if there was always sun.
Parents dropping kids at daycare said, Be good, but have fun.
We got good at making it up as we went along,
everyone humming, singing a catchy song.
As I look from my porch at all the debris,
one thing came: why were we so blind, did not see?
One minute we were committed to make ourselves small,
and the next we were cowboys roaming the hall.

It happens like this: the pile of trash we leave
is a measure of us, of what we believe.
And as our emissions, as in countless sins, continue to mount,
the earth like a god will bring us to account.

– Dale Cottingham

editors note:

When accounting comes, we may be too poor to pay. There ain’t no cooking these books. – mh clay

Leave a Reply