Thursday, March 27, 2008

Local Conditions

Today the Coast Range wrapped itself in sleet
and Sylvan Ridge was dusted white with snow,
commuters crawling safe but turtle-slow.
It’s late March; winter still won’t sound retreat
and spring draws near on hesitating feet,
too weak to make the older season go—
while round the world, the climate records show
we’re suffering a rise in global heat.
From orbit, Earth is blue as peacock feathers.
It’s wrapped in oceans eyed with hurricanes,
a shaken snowglobe full of heavy weather,
laced with jet-stream turbulence. The storms
that rip the coasts to shreds and shatter panes
are just the planet breathing as it warms.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside

10 comments:

paisley said...

in the event that this is true??? who or what are we blaming the extinction of the ice age on?????

i think we are pretty darn lucky the planet has maintained a reasonably livable climate as long as it has in light of the extreme climate changes it has undergone in the past.

i loved the poem.. it is just the subject matter that has become the proverbial thorn in my side....

Anonymous said...

It's true.
Wake me up in time for Spring

Anonymous said...

I like your stance on this subject.
That's pretty well the way I feel too.

Jane Doe said...

Well said! Another great poem!

Linda Jacobs said...

You are such an expert at sonnets! You never let the rhyme get in the way. It's just natural. Loved it!

One More Believer said...

another beautiful poem... the last line was perfect...

tumblewords said...

Lovely, as always. I'm looking forward to spring - the snow keeps falling here, too.

Crystal Kill said...

This poem is great-- I'm going to muse on it for my 2/30 in the thirty poems in thirty days...

Good words!

artpredator said...

wow--quite impressive! great rhymes, and i esp love the image of the earth as peacock feather blue. really great.

shubd07 said...

A such beauty of words and imagery in something so topical !!

Particularly loved :
It’s late March; winter still won’t sound retreat
and spring draws near on hesitating feet,
too weak to make the older season go—"

conjures up such a lovely picture.