Will Our Oceans Look Like This?

Yellowstone, August 1999, Elliptical Pool, Hillside Burned in a Forest Fire

Too Hot

When it rains, it floods.

When the sun shines,

land is parched and dry.

Mountains are crumbling,

rolling down to the sea.

The oceans are boiling,

edged with algae to fry.

One of our food sources,

as underground, we try.

And only go out in the sun,

with our titanium suits on.

Steel is rusting in place,

while plastic is everywhere.

Part of the food chain,

we were told to beware.

Our world is poisoned,

with our industrial waste.

We didn't know when to stop,

consuming in our haste.

Let the machines take over,

where we left off.

Perhaps things get better,

while we just cough.

Copyright 2024 © Ronald W. Hull 

1/25/24

You can read and print this poem at my website here.