Spring has long since begun, yet flowers are hardly blooming. 

The ground is damp with what is left of rain,

The air is sticky, irritatingly warm with humidity.

Some days, the Sun is shining bright, too bright, much too bright,

While others, He disappears completely

The air carries a warm, summer-like breeze. 

But it is timid, it lacks the valiance and strength that makes it desirable.

The sky is covered in clouds, the Sun has no presence here.

It is quiet, too quiet for the Spring, 

It’s as if the Earth itself has stopped living.

There aren’t any animals, all gone save for one lone butterfly.

They too have sensed it, this eerie feeling of gloom. 

The world is changing, this much is certain. 

It’s hardly a surprise to anyone, after all, we’re the ones causing it.

It isn’t fair, not to the plants, not to the animals.

It isn’t fair to the future generations,

Whose lives will only continue to grow harder and harder. 

After all, what are the children to do, when their on parents leave the car idling, let the lights stay on as they leave the house, throw away their half-full plates.

Flowers are blooming in Antarctica, is it really the end?

Is humanity destined to fail, to fall, find itself extinct like so many others?

No, humans are different from the dinosaurs, the wooly mammoths, the do-do birds.

Unlike these animals, we are causing our own destruction.

But we are also different for another, a greater reason. 

We can change, understand our faults and crimes against the world,

And we can STOP, we can DO BETTER.

Humans are like bacteria, like a virus, invading and destroying everything in our path.

But we also adapt like a virus, we are persistent, we do whatever it takes to survive.

The world is changing, that much is certain. 

The world is ending. 

But it hasn’t ended yet.

Against the frozen soil
emerges a seedling
vibrant in color and full of life.
An inner fire
resisting the chills of mother nature.

Others soon join,
drawn from the warmth of the first.
Now stands a bustling city,
colorful and filled with glee.

These saplings now older,
grow their leaves to a boastful green.
They compete to absorb the sunlight
striving to one day
be the one to stand the tallest.

Growing bold and wise,
they change their colors to a warmer hue,
each distinct and a testament of their time
from when they were green and lime

The trees now fully content,
release their leaves as a way to liberate.
And they fall one by one,
signaling the end of an era.

What is left is barren land.
Waiting,
for a seedling to sprout
to life.