The last flowers rain down
from the cherry trees, a pervasive
sadness announcing summer’s approach.
We would welcome it, but we
fear its possible wrath for all
seasons show their anger to us.
as if to cast blame on us for ignoring
their beauty, their bounty, assuming
their offerings will recur despite
our misbegotten changes to what
they have always relied on, our arrogance
and greed which they can neither
understand or hope to overcome.
So it will be with summer, and
then autumn in its turn, a world
we have turned on its head, and still
we wonder why things are different
as we shiver in what now seems
an endless winter, nature having
finally turned her back on us
as repayment for our callousness.
We beg for a return to what once was
but the past is a shadow that has faded
in the glaring light of our dereliction.