You may judge tender of me.
Although if to consider the soil, in its bereft state - and poverty -
I could likely see
the judgement you are to make of me.

Flooded coasts, flames burning acres
ice caps melt and we are still producing.
What is this, but the world of 21st C? ohh I remember

The headline ran,
"This is the decade climate change slapped us in the face[1]"  and yet, we let it pass.
it's slapped us on and on, and the news warned us there was literature to be read in between the national disaster crisis of this century, and the accelerated pace of life oil provided us.

so where were we?

I heard climate strikes were a passing trend across nations one day, and the other, "black Friday in Walmart" changed the passion of our hearts to buy because 'just for today' we need a new Ipad, and need more shoes and more, and better and newer.

It was us, all along, us
in the look of shinier, faster and better, so don't!
be tender of me for

-Today- some species are legends -today- the map has flooded Latin America,
-to day- the vast U.S and Russia run their business-as-usual feud in the nobility
power gained them -too late- to change the minds of so many.

for the aridity of the soil
for the greenlessness of the landscape
for the long-gone transparency of the lakes  
Thoreau told you about and you cannot now but imagine
I'm sorry.

[1] Article by Justine Calma Dec 10, 2019. Published by THE VERGE