I am apt to brood this time of year because the days are so short, especially up here. Like what would become of this world if it didn't spin toward summer?
Darkest Days
Sol snaps shut the winter solstice.
A tapered steeple on the horizon
fades into the dusk.
The shortest day sinks into inkiness
as I adjust the blinds, not to shut-out
the gloominess but to bring in the cityscape.
Thoughts of the globe stuck
in this position stalk me.
Would the Sahara become a zone where
flesh could ignite, and fire in the Australian
outback chew up major cities?
Would unrest spread globally and suicides
become the norm? But, no, Gaia responds
more subtly than making the earth fixed.
I straighten the shades to admit
the glowing car lights in the distance.
Their pollution unnoticed come sunset.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.