Mother Gaia is crying

Her tears kiss my skin as I
pollute my lungs on the porch
in a T shirt
She should be twirling
this time of year

all white-flake
wonder-eyes
fierce, cold
unapologetic skies

but we’ve been polluting Her lungs
for years
and so She cries —
warm, December rain
while I smoke
on my porch  

in a t shirt