I sit here
In the autumn of my year
And my voice raise
In praise
Of the god of progress.

They say
That robotic bees
Are on their way
But I know that the seas
Boil
With oil.

The temperature is relatively normal for the time of year
(Although autumn has been unusually hot).
I shall enjoy it while it lasts
For more storm blasts
And weather hot
Are what
Are on the way.

I heard an ostridge say,
With his head in the sand,
“You must understand
That climate change isn’t true,
Those experts are all lieing to you!”.
The weather will grow hotter my ostridge friend
However much you may pretend
That what
Is, is not.

I shall enjoy this autum day
And think on how nature does the forest floor dress
In fallen leaves, and think on progress
But towards what
I know not.
Yet hope is the last thing to die
And I
Have faith that we may overrule
The fool
Who believes not
That the world is getting hot.