Declination

This soft, welcome night after a day like a furnace,
Pacific breeze surges past peaks of the coast range,
Washes across the valley, the fecund whiff of agriculture and earth,
Fields of hay and forests of fir, so far removed
From all we had known in New England,
	
Highway beacons glimmering, distant, but the neighborhood still,
Dipper wheels round the north star, 
Gibbous moon rises through pines at the top of the hill,
The dog wonders why we’re out so late, eleven or so, 
Content to lie on the mat by the railing, sniffing the world,

The winds have washed away the smoke and dust that stain these days
With a pallid orange, sickly glow, the western fires, that create 
Armageddon sunsets, unbreathable air, the turgid haze
That gathers trapped by mountain ranges, obscures the landscape,
Fills lungs with foul poisons, dims the light, 
Illuminates our irrevocable future,

This future we’re all signed up for, the one we’ve created
With hardly a whimper, save the mourners, save the refugees
Already unable to live in their native lands and assembled at
Our unfriendly borders where there’s no refuge, so little succor
In a world in declination, our future ever looming, closer; today

Florida is sinking under floods left by Hurricane Idalia,
Hawaii burned last week, Greece and Canada and Europe on fire,
Record low ice at the poles, the planet begins to bake, 

This declination moves along faster now, I can feel the decay,
The rot from within and without, a lost step, a forgotten word,
A diminished machine, generally wearing down,
Battling to remain both vital and relevant, looking forward, 
Straddling hopelessness and determination, and resigned, and regretful

 
07/20/23