The leaves are almost all gone from the front of my house. But on the side, in the corridor between two buildings, the golden trees still sway and shimmer. Nobody told them winter is here. I sit perfectly still in my house, contemplating the gold, in awe.
This morning I read a poem by Joseph Fasano about Gaza. It broke my heart all over again. The children are still dying. The land still burns. What will become of our souls?
You are looking at climate change and reading a poem about genocide. If we had souls neither would occur.
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