The desert slowly creeping
does not contemplate the weeping
of the mother whose milk ducts have run dry.
On a beach a rich girl, dreaming
turns a closed ear to the keening~
of the woman who must watch her children die.

Watchers in the arctic station
contemplate with fascination
the spectral beauty of the melting ice
as they gather information
on the predicted inundation.
The scream of money mutes their wise advice.

While the city’s raging thirst
deprives fields the mountains nursed
and sucks the river’s flowing current dry
or winds blow destructively
and fertile soil is washed to sea
by the torrents that pour down from the sky.

As the wounded Earth complains
profligate humankind unchains
ancient monsters our forefathers faced with dread.
They are nature’s retribution
for the relentless pollution
of the system that has been life’s one seedbed.

Poems on a similar theme.
The Offcomer
 54 Degrees North
The Young River
Peccavimus
Bittter Fruit

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