By Gabe Minney
There is still time
I am certain of it, even
right now, during this very disaster
there are still rivers flowing
with mostly-fresh water, still
there are redwoods and
birds nesting and chirping in
still-blue skies, there is still time
there are still mountains with snow
and raindrops which kiss the
barrenness and make it blush with green,
again, it reminds me of rolling down hills
as bruised children, do you remember?
There is still time, really, it is
still out there, right now, maybe even
covered with a still morning dew, there
is still life in the oceans and on the lands
and our winter days may still be blessed with
snow and the air might still
nibble at our cheeks and there
is still time to count the degrees
and the rains and tally up the storms-
be thankful that you can be nervous
be thankful, we have been allowed to stumble for
so long, we have been granted amnesty by our stars,
mother will forgive us for the scars we have
carved into her, we can still go home, please
there is still, there is hope, even now
after the bombs and fires
there are still bombs and fires, yet we are still
here, still making them, still not believing them
we have grown so much and lived so
little, even still, when there are
two hundred and fifty years of life
breathing through the
eight billion of us every second, I swear,
there is still time to save it.