There’s a dirty greasiness in the air; a fell voice upon the wind.
Democracy is barely holding against the gale. It hasn’t broke. It’s meant to bend.
Where there is fire there is always smoke. It’s drought & zephyr fed.
How many deaths will it take to see this period dead.
We fret that our new normal is not just temporary.
We’re in close quarters with a deadly animal, scared & constantly harried.
Things are rough. There’s no denying it. The country’s running scared.
Half are running one way & everyone else the other. The one half with their arms bared.
Mother Nature is screaming at us all no matter our material issues.
She’s pissed & out for revenge for centuries of rape & misuse
I have no happy moral here for I am caught up too.
All this is very clear to me but I don’t know what to do.
L.B.Stowe 