When The Weather Comes Calling

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The river that I drank from
Is cloudy murky.
Is acrid dust
Parched I look up.

The oil I drilled
Powered machines,
Powered light
Blind I wander.

The minerals I mined
Built steel,
Built strong
Frail I look on.

The business I raised
Brought wealth,
Brought pride
Alone I wonder.

The mangroves beseeched
The oceans rebelled,
The clouds thundered
The carcass floats.

The horizon bare
The mountains groaned,
The land moaned
The man dead.

The winds howl
The snow weeps
The turbulence raucous
The man buried.

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The Swing

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Lush were the fields around me
The ponds rippled clear
Verdant the shady grove
Rivers meandered lazily.

Such were the times
Of childhood memories
Schools and books
Songs and rhymes

One swing to fly high
With the birds nearby
Taking turns in delight
Now…. Sigh.