The Weather
The weather It won’t get better, it will get worse We are caught within a climate curse We will keep sinning- for there is no winning Til the water comes through the door. We are heedless to the warnings Pointing fingers somewhere else Flying jets to preach climate justice The blame is our’s of course. Only hermits in their hideouts Only sisters in their convents Only tribes in deepest jungles Lead blameless lives without reproach. When sea waters breach our storm walls When the farmer no longer farms When foreign travel is out of reach Will we reflect and start to think? Nothing surer than our decision To do what’s right not when we should But when we’re forced to turn around And save what’s left, what’s remaining. And so the future’s very clear Our current hopes and current fears Will be replaced by pressing needs Hanging on for grim survival.