The thing is… they lied.
Winter is NOT coming.
The unending Glare and Heat of
Summer is coming.
And so we go in search of Winter.
Retreating from the relentless,
The raging Sea.
Into the forest, nestled among the trees.
Oh to hear birdsong again!
To hear the rustling of leaves falling,
The patter of rain caressing the forest.
To wake to that eerie silence,
Whispers that Night has
Blanketed the earth with snow.
To see moonlight shade into daylight.
Your Waves will always roil my soul.
I was born by your side.
The beat of your Waves gave
Rhythm to my Heart.
Perhaps that is why I must leave you.
You are Sacred Space.
I cannot bear your defilement.
What does the noise of Bike Week hold against your Grandeur!?
Why build houses-not-lived-in to your very shore?!
Why do we fill your sisters—Bay, Estuary, Wetlands—with dirt and rubble?
To build yet more houses-not-lived-in?!
Do we mean to try to fill The Abyss?
To try temper the terror of
Is this why we feed you our plastic refuse?
Demand that you swallow and digest
Until You have had Enough!
Conspire with Air and Sun.
Bring Endless Summer.
And for now, for me…
I will retreat to