“I spent four lonely days

In a brown heavy haze …”

Lilt the lines of the song,

We join to sing along.

It’s everywhere, this brown cloud,

Spread over the earth, a shroud,

It hovers over Washington, D.C.

On a windless morn, one can see,

Dropping off the Virginia hills,

On I-66 in my east-bound wheels

The greater Potomac valley flat,

Awaits with a stained caveat:

“At your own risk breathe my air,

Even on days when skies are fair,

Horizontal view at height illuminates,

Layer of dirty brown particulates.”

And this is only the iceberg’s tip,

For other places are under the grip,

Of a much wider and deeper layer,

That with vengeance is a slayer.

For breathing this sludge will earn

One’s lungs and throat a burn,

And who knows what body parts

Are harmed by toxicity off the charts!

But scientists say this pollution allays

Global warming by blocking solar rays.

So, perhaps we’ll choke on the smog,

Instead of baking like a pitted hog.

“And what advantage would that give?”

You say, wanting instructions to live.

“None, Sir. At either turn, we’ll go extinct,

For we seem imbued with death instinct.”

 We ignore the signs as economy grows

That resources deplete, add to our woes,

The more people we add to our space,

The more scarcity we have to face.

First, it’s the ground, where no food grows,          

Then, it’s water, that trickles, and slows,

Then air becomes too bad for breath,

Go ahead — pick a cause of death.

© 2008 R. Leland Waldrip