We thought we had tamed the ancient dragons. But they were simply sleeping and waiting, Watching as we, with untested method, Created a fierce climate most suited To their needs: heated, hostile, disordered. We built world-wide high monuments To hubris, our folly of invention.
And for all this, out of the acrid mist, Rising through the heat of long decay and Glowing furnace, we morning to bird song, To breeze on dewed leaf and green filtered light - Still with God's warmth - that we may join the song And lift our face to the creator's sun.
Prompted by Garrard Manley Hopkins poem, 'God's Grandeur'.