Squirrels

sphinx

This winter weather isn’t normal here.
I state that not to argue or complain.
The other coast, the other hemisphere
have got it worse, but we’re bereft of rain.
The squirrels race around like early spring.
Mid-January hummingbirds abound.
Oxalis freckles lawns and sparrows sing
at azure skies from desiccated ground.

I’ve had a happy life, and this reverse
does not result from horoscope or luck.
Perversion of our climate is the curse
of slash-and-burn for profit. What the fuck
was in the hearts, the minds of rich and strong,
who met the sphinx and heard the riddle wrong?

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry, Weather. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s