Poetry

and to me, the late summer-early fall time is the best. Warm enough to be active, but also cooling to where both outside and inside time is enhanced--playing football, but also having pie and hot chocolate. Leafing, but also enjoying the last of the summer grapes. Being warm in the daytime, but snuggling up like a bug in a rug at night. This poem was a lot about the denier in chief's assholery and that of the people he promotes and installs. They have a digitalized lying PA, but I want us folks who love nature to take back the narrative because frozen cherry blossoms and wrecked spring harvests and dying plovers and puffins and earthquakes in Oklahoma and floods in Florida and the Jersey shore shouldn't become a "new normal", but should stay a monstrosity that we only accidentally let wealthy folks aid and abet. Climate change is real, and seems to be happening faster than I think our life-necessity crops will adapt to. I feel more certain catastrophic/parasitic life forms will benefit. The maggot in chief I would like to see his several coastal golf resorts under water. Him also.