Plumes of smoke
on a cold
Winter’s day
bring thoughts
of warmth and
community
and human
busyness and
achievement.
Plumes of smoke
on a hot
Summer’s day
bring thoughts
of destruction
and terror
and loss and
anger and
failure.
Plumes of smoke
on a cold
Winter’s day
bring thoughts
of warmth and
community
and human
busyness and
achievement.
Plumes of smoke
on a hot
Summer’s day
bring thoughts
of destruction
and terror
and loss and
anger and
failure.
The fog
of war,
the smoke
of climate
change
Politicians
and journalists
always demand to
know, and then
reject, the cost of
measures to conserve
the environment.
But neither ever
ask the cost
of war.
This is the way the world ends,
with the bang of a
million trees exploding,
with the whimper of a
thousand koalas dying,
and unbreathable smoke,
and blowing dust,
and drying earth,
and drying rivers,
and a howling wind,
and a bloody Sun,
and a feeling of
utter helplessness.
I have an
“Anxiety
App” that
generates
anxiety.
It’s also
called
“Fires near me”
Having an online
map of bushfires
in this state,
constantly
updated,
is good because
it keeps you
informed about
what is burning.
It is bad
because it keeps
you informed about
what is burning.
Every morning
I awake wondering
if this is the day
a million red
horses of the
apocalypse
will come galloping
over the western hills.
The ashes of
koalas are
blackening
the beaches of
Australia