The earth is a sleeping pig,

stinking,

boiling,

blunted,

blinking,

sourly computing every sound

in the blinding quiet.

 

The earth is a precious child.

We must attend to every sigh.

Rien de plus …

There is nothing more or else or other.

No other life space.

I corn’t spayk

I stand amazed.

April said she’d chum me

to a safer space,

side-eyeing all poisoned water,

and wholesale greenwashing.

Data is the root of all evil here.

‘Hauld yer wheesht, hen’

’We will replant sea grass

in Scotland’s coastal verges

but blindly dredge untouched ocean floors

for lithium,

sustaining daily prattle’.

 

’Scanny, she’s one for overthinking,

rendered inactive, without a clue,

Doollally tap’.

 

‘We must reap what we must sow’.

The great forest murmers

a global whisper

embracing in loose-limbed connection

across the piggery.

 

 

 

Author: ©️Jane Eckford

2nd September 2023