Ecological Suicide Hotline

On a warm night in mid June

by the darkness of new moon.
Some millions of outliers
took the air out of the tires.
When the drivers found out that
all their Goodyears had gone flat,
they responded with a cry,
“Those who did this have to die!”
But they’d always missed the point
that this world was not their joint.
What their cars did to the air
harmed the planet, wasn’t fair.
All the climate change deniers,
those who called scientists liars,
had to pause their thoughtless squawking,
faced now with the threat of walking.
“And the smokestacks will be next.
It’s a new day,” said the text.
Business based on growth and greed
must bow now to worldly need.
If the planet’s to survive,
we must be like bees in hive.
Old lifestyles of buy and waste
must be changed, and with some haste.
Without your cooperation,
planet earth goes on vacation.

R.I.P., A.G.Y.

Mother died today. And I am no Camus.
She danced along her way, begun in twenty-two.
A raving farm girl beauty, with rabbits in her yard,
and pledged to family duty, life later became hard.
A mother to her brother, who’d always be a child,
she jumped too soon at marriage, and that’s when things got wild.
She lived a whirlwind fantasy in fifties social scenes.
Her husband grew in power. They had fun and they had means.
But marriage cracked by loving lacked and someone had to fall.
She wound up in an institution, slave to alcohol.
Faith and pure determination put her back on track.
Father found her with the next door neighbor, in the sack.
Post divorce, she moved from city to a trailer park.
There she grew back into life, escaping from the dark.
She went back to school, acted in plays and modeled, too.
She took photographs which now expressed her lightened view.
She went back to church, went back to work and really flourished.
Old age gradually snuck in, but with her spirit nourished,
she remained a dignified and always loving presence.
Now she’s with the flowers, which have always been her essence.