**They Seem To Know Not What To Do
The Seasons seem in disarray,
They vary much from day to day.
One time it’s cold, another hot,
Misty morn or a sunny spot.
It seems they know not what to do,
With one sky grey then one sky blue.
The plants they know not what is what,
They rise up from the ground a lot.
But not at the right time it seems,
When there is never bright sunbeams.
For Mr Frost will buds wipe out,
But he’s kind to the brussels sprout.
Soon our planet will look so bare,
We’re all to blame we have no care.
It is so sad to see this woe,
Growing shoots when they shouldn’t grow.
The Seasons are all mixed about,
Crazy’s the word there is no doubt.
The World is in a wobbly spin,
The ozone layer is getting thin.
The moon’s moving away so fast,
Cannot stop it, the dye is cast.
The damage can’t be rectified,
We are on a slippery slide.
Appreciate the Earth right now,
Before we take our final bow.
Let’s not damage it anymore,
Take care of it I do implore.
For generations still to be,
We must be wise, you must agree.
Ernestine Northover's Other Poems
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