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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Climate Change Haiku by Michael R. Burch late November: climate skeptics scoff but the geese no longer migrate. The King of Beasts in the Museum of the Extinct by Michael R. Burch The king of beasts, my child, was terrible, and wild. His roaring shook the earth till the feeble cursed his birth. And all things feared his might: even rhinos fled, in fright. Now here these bones attest to what the brute did best and the pain he caused his prey when he hunted in his day. For he slew them just for sport till his own pride was cut short with a mushrooming cloud and wild thunder; Exhibit "B" will reveal his blunder. Burn by Michael R. Burch Sunbathe, ozone baby, till your parched skin cracks in the white-hot flash of radiation. Incantation from your pale parched lips shall not avail; you made this hell. Now burn. Just Desserts by Michael R. Burch “The West Antarctic ice sheet might not need a huge nudge to budge.” And if it does budge, denialist fudge may force us to trudge neck-deep in sludge! Whose Woods by Michael R. Burch Whose woods these are, I think I know. Dick Cheney’s in the White House, though. He will not see me stopping here To watch his chip mills overflow. My sterile horse must think it queer To stop without a ’skeeter near Beside this softly glowing “lake” Of six-limbed frogs gone nuclear. He gives his hairless tail a shake; I fear he’s made his last mistake— He took a sip of water blue (Blue-slicked with oil and HazMat waste). Get out your wallets; Dick’s not through— Enron’s defunct, the bill comes due . . . Which he will send to me, and you. Which he will send to me, and you. God to Man, Contra Bataan by Michael R. Burch Earth, what-d’ya make of global warming? Perth is endangered, the high seas storming. Now all my creatures, from maggot to man Will know how it felt on the march to Bataan. Davenport Tomorrow by Michael R. Burch Davenport tomorrow: all the trees stand stark-naked in the sun. Now it is always summer and the bees buzz in cesspools, adapted to a new life. There are no flowers, but the weeds, being hardier, have survived. The small town has become a city of millions; there is no longer a sea, only a huge sewer, but the children don't mind. They still study rocks and stars, but biology is a forgotten science: after all, what is life? Davenport tomorrow: all the children murmur through vein-streaked gills whispered wonders of long-ago. Keywords/Tags: science, climate change, global warming, ecology
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