updated
As the Sun peeps below the aurora,
morning coffee is being brewed
over coal by manufacturah.
Trees sigh
what’s the matta?
Earth has fever
and they are still snoring
in pajamas.
Even before dawn
algae have abandoned the corals,
dying they too ask,
“What’s the matta?”
Deep in rem,
still no ansa.
Ahead of the rooster’s crowing,
Floods are right by the doorsteps-
not knocking–
banging!
Polar bears without the glaciers, the ices,
keep wandering wondering–
saying “endless summer
is not a good thing.”
Salmons may not be there
for them, and them
for ages–
sniff sniffing:
CO who?
Is such a,
such a
bad thing.
Earth’s fever is not going
down nor leaving–
and men are still buried
in blankets,
still sleeping
while the house is burning.