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Heat

July 13, 2019 ~ G. Paul Randall

We shrink from July’s
sizzling face-lick, as August
stokes the coals and prepares
its glowing branding iron.

Biosphere’s down with a fever
fighting the infection that’s
razing her trees, fouling her rivers
smoking her skies.

She’s picking bits
of plastic from her teeth
with all the patience
she can muster.

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Posted in poem 350 ppmclimate changeglobal warmingheatnaturepoempoetrySummer

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