Mysterious World Wide Facts. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The world just sits there, being what it is.
I'm watching it spin, and mind my own biz,
But sometimes, I'm looking at the way things go,
The gears in my head start to turn a bit slow.

I imagine the summer with
a blanket of white
Not a heatwave in sight, just a cool, snowy night.
Then a winter sun comes, actually warming your face,
Instead of this freezing, gray, hollow space.
A trade of the seasons, a shift in the air,
To see if the world would even still care.

And why does the day have to shut like a door?
I'd like a half-light, and a soft-glowing floor,
Where noon meets the midnight and shakes its hand,
While a steady mild breeze blowing over the land.

Then there's the sea or the oceans, so much water, so deep,
Filled up with a secret it's trying to keep.
Why salt in the oceans? Why not in the lakes?
It feels like a massive, watery mistake.

My doctor looks at me, 'Cut the salt, ' he says.
My wife nods along, in her well knowing ways.
Yet the ocean is rusting every ship's hole,
While my dinner plate stays, remarkably dull.

It's a puzzle, I guess, with a few missing bits,
A giant design that occasionally fits.
So I'll keep on my dreaming of fresh-water seas,
And a world that was built, with a screwed mind like me.