A drought is almost like despair,
but then there comes a flood.
The cycles of the patient earth,
run deep within our blood.
The seasons of the sun revolve,
like seabirds in a gyre.
We pray for sacred rain to come,
and quench damnation's fire.
The universe, forever mute,
yet offers up a clue.
For only blessings we protect,
are those that we are due.
So we must tend the garden well,
and shun the serpent's lair,
and double down our firm resolve,
to fight perdition's snare.
~~~~~
Written as a response to the withdrawal from The Paris Climate Accord.