Exhausted By forests burning I went home Heavy in the knowledge Of the death spiral We have set ourselves on. What to do? Go mad, cry, protest, rebel. I made tea – Very English – And somehow Found myself On the balcony Planting seeds, High-blooming flowers, Now, in August, Hardly …
So here we are Breathing in plastic particles While the Amazon burns. Breathe in Breathe out. In Sao Paulo The daytime sky Is darkened by smoke From the burning forest Over a thousand kilometres away. Breathe in Breathe out. The Amazon, we have been told Is the lungs of the …
Cross the only bridge over the Atlantic And call for the ferry To take you to Easdale The dark isle Black shingle beach Jagged rock and bladderwrack Sheer sided, limpet pock-marked Slate screes down to glass-top pools Workings filled by the storm That put an end to working Bringing exodus …
We’ve left it late. Far too late to stop Horrendous damage from being inflicted. Even now, Even now that we know, Even now that we know about the potential Scale of the damage And the threat that continuing In our business-as-usual fashion Poses to all life on earth, Even now, …
Snow’s here at last. It came late this winter, but it finally arrived, coming down in big, feathery flakes that made you forget the world, just for a second. Always magical, snow. The stuff of dreams, and childhood winters, and wrapping up warm. Transformer of concrete wastelands into landscapes of …
Sometimes in history there are individuals who step up to take a collective burden upon themselves. Sometimes they might be saying the exact same things as countless others, but their character and bearing lend a weight to their actions that strikes a chord in others, stirring them to action. We’re …
Paradise burned to the ground last week But they say they can rebuild it. They say We were negligent And shouldn’t have left stuff Lying around To catch fire. It’s been a long hot summer Here in Paradise Hotter and dryer Than any of us can remember And we remember …
The November rain didn’t come this year. It’s 17° C outside and my plants are wilting on the balcony. I know it’s fall because the trees are aflame with orange and brown. The entrance to our apartment building is full of dead leaves. But outside guys are walking round in …