The birds that come

Today, the mountains are barely visible

Ash is falling from the sky

The looming sun glows red

Everything is dull and muted

Even the animals seem unsettled

-

But we are told to work

Put on a mask and be productive

As the world burns

This feels like a dream, or the end of days

-

The future, fading images of a dying planet

Forever extracting resources, exploiting people

Borders being drawn while children starve

Bombs drop and medicine withheld

Billionaires becoming trillionaires

-

I think of these things

As I watch the crows pant

In the fields of this scorched earth