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.  

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