They say; the present is a ticket to a new life.
But the past exudes in the present
and that makes change a privilege.
Land is fatigued by the cultivating efforts of my fathers.
What else is the alternative for my lineage?
I also know of the tired legs of my nomad friends.
We require change, but the past is in our face.
Weather fidgets, undecided about change.
Do we share the anxiety of Weather
or is it the other way around?
So much depends on a smiling sun, a dewy morning,
or a dry windy night, being right on its time.
So much depends on proper heat, power,
and mobility, being harnessed and maximized.
Our present, we with environmental anxiety,
is funambulism on an unending high-wire.
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