Doom

Doom Doom

Is there room?

For all the choices

For listening to the plea of voices

Warm winters cold Summers

Weather moving to the beat of its own drummers

Trees and grasses die from drought

Other places flooded out

Sun blazing way to hot

In January but it’s not

In March under a wet blanket of snow

Birds come back North too soon

Ecosystems fall to ruin

We have to be go-getters

Work to make this planet better

People say someday somehow

I’m here to say someday is now

 

 

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