The Gonzo Wolf

The summer is dwindling

The fall clouds draw nigh

Except here in Texas

We’ll probably die

From summer part two

Or, if curs-ed, a third

To those on the east coast

It must sound absurd

To cookout at Christmas

Or a Thanksgiving plunge

The climate’s been changing

Since Vedder was Grunge

Or perhaps even longer

The invention of cars

From home to the bars

And ships to the stars

All things start to die

On the moment they’re born

All people, all places

All planets’ lifeforms

It was changing eternal

Since dawning’s first burn

We can’t kill the mother

It’s simply our turn

I’m old. I like poetry when it rhymes. Sometimes.