Look around, up at the sky
A nauseating blend of gray and black
Smoke everywhere
It’s hard to see anything through the haze
A haze of uncertainty.
Try to remember the freedom of clean air
Breathe in
Cough out the stale stench of smoke
The smell of a busy industry
No time for the environment
Taken for granted
A tree can only be described as a majestic
It is not only a home, but a habitat
Some, with flowers bursting with color
Now any tree left
Has withered into a short stump
No longer is it bursting with life
The flowers have fallen to the ground
Their time forgotten
No water left to nourish them
The water is no longer a tantalizing blue
No longer are there gentle, lapping waves in the ocean
No longer is a body of water as reflective as a mirror
Now tehre is only harsh currents of mud left
Swimming through the little water that remains
Bits of plastic trash
Glinting through the grimy haze of the ocean
Cans, nets, and gass
Nowhere else to go
A green earth wasted.
Murchison
8