“Ou sont les neiges d’antan?”


Are we burning ourselves up

With automobiles, factory smoke, trains and such?

What  luxuries am I willing to give up

To blow on our planet a cool,  gentle breeze?

Surely not my  air conditioned home and car

Nor my oil-fueled furnace.

Mother earth is not a birthday cake

To cover with candles in hopes

That we can take a deep breath

And blow them out all out

At a whim,

At any time we please.

Are  polar bears, shrinking glaciers,

As canaries in coal mines telling miners “beware!”

Or is this just a blip in geological time

As frozen fields become deserts over the eons?

Let’s wake up!   Our future depends  upon the answer.