The Seasons Of Our Times

by Irene Fowler, Contributor

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The Seasons Of Our Times

by Irene Fowler

The careening, clashing, crashing, seasons of our times
A perennial climate rollercoaster; turbulent and extreme, lacking rhythm, rails, or off-ramps
Natural calamities exacerbate callous, fabricated, human crises a thousandfold
Wind, water, heat and earth, in a horrific elemental uproar and meltdown
As nature’s erstwhile orderly, co-simpatico, genial seasons of eons, spin off-course
Mocked, trolled, and controlled, by climate break-down and freak outcomes
Winter, spring, summer, and fall cycles, now entangled in a helter-skelter, unruly relay race
The priceless baton, earth’s rod of normality, harmony and balance; involuntarily dropped; perhaps forever lost
Misaligned, handicapped, star-crossed, seasoned runners, bump and collide; unstable, mistimed and out-of-line.


The splendid realm of insects, mammals and avians, runs on track, keeping to a biological clock
As winter hoarders continue to testify to their undeterred industrious activities, and survival skills
Squirrels building their larder of walnuts, beechnuts, and hazelnuts
Moles macabrely hoarding their stash of live worms
Fire ants prep a ‘jerky’ meal, from stored prey; honeypot ants transform into live storage-kegs
While acorn-woodpeckers, create their tree-trunk granaries
Zero hour for the problematic depletion, and near-extinction, of planetary species, for now, at bay
Lesser beings, holding out hope to the cratering human kingdom, are repaid, by unabated, devil-may-care, manmade climate change.


The seasons of modern mankind, veer sharply from hope and promise; to uncertainty, discord and nihilism
‘Now is the winter of our discontent……’ Perchance, absent the glorious summer, forecast by Shakespeare’s, Duke of Gloucester
The summer harvest of socio-economic justice, merely, a scorching-desert mirage; as masses descend further, into frigid, icy despair
Meanwhile, the hostile spectre of totalitarian rule gains ground; looming large, in its revolting, corrupt, race against democracy
Threatening to roll-back costly, hard-won, established universal rights and freedoms; and international order
Thus sayeth the Holy Writ; ‘there is a time for everything.’ The time is undeniably ripe for renouncing, resisting, and overturning cruel, unjust leadership
Tawdry, ignoble, freaks of humanity and nature; at odds and out of touch with compassion and good will, towards mankind
There is every reason to sound a clarion call for a peaceful revolution. Some may call it treason. Even so, it is a welcome, overdue season.

© 2022 by Irene Fowler





About wordcloud9

Nona Blyth Cloud has lived and worked in the Los Angeles area for over 50 years, spending much of that time commuting on the 405 Freeway. After Hollywood failed to appreciate her genius for acting and directing, she began a second career managing non-profits, from which she has retired. Nona has now resumed writing whatever comes into her head, instead of reports and pleas for funding. She lives in a small house overrun by books with her wonderful husband.
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