The earth is dying. Hope is eroding, at best. Faith
is sustainable and will persist as long as the last
glacier resists the ice-melt. God was our Plan B.
For when it all became too much. Or we were the
cosmic Plan B. For when it all seemed too little.
All that is broken now, with the wild weather,
with the disappearing creatures, with the
invading seas. We reneged on our deal with
the planet. Defaulted on Plan B. A hungry bird
swoops low towards a pair of yellow-eyed fish.
Changes its mind and settles on a thirsty branch.
Eating the last two fish cannot be the answer. A
strange fox watches from the shadows. Cursing
the wasteland, he waits for the bird to drop.