Living in this
cold world.
Every detail is noticed.

The birds chirp
with a hum of
highway traffic.

They fly south
in search of
better opportunities.
Carpetbaggers.

The wind brings the
sweet smell of
civilization.
Breath in.
Breath out.

Favorite sun pokes out
from behind its shadowy veil
of sulfur spewing smokestacks.

Listening to the grass
move,
groaning to keep up
the world.
An environmental Atlas.

Maintenance men out
pulling
the weeds
silently screaming for help.

The leaves don't crunch,
they let out
an apathetic sigh.
They move on
to their next life.
They've fallen
down on their luck.

Listen to the sounds
of Mother
being pushed around.