Scientists Predictions Now Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The Earth spins round, a living, breathing ball,
And wise folks watch, to warn us of a fall.
They check the sun, its fiery, warming might,
And track the rocks that wander through the night.

The air they watch, how warmth and winds do play,
The ground beneath, where tremors come to stay.
These are their tools, their numbers, clear and true,
To tell us what the future might bring through.

No date they give, no month when all will cease,
No sudden end that steals our world in peace.
Just steady work, with proof for all to see,
Not whispered fears of what is yet to be.

Sometimes strange tales, like whispers on the breeze,
Speak of an end, on distant, anxious seas.
Of scientists unknown, with words of dread,
But real ones check the stars, the skies overhead.

They see the stones, the path they have to tread,
And know which ones might harm, and which are dead
To earthly threats. The sun, it ebbs and flows,
But not a sudden doom that truly shows.

For science needs its proof, its careful plan,
Reviewed by many, understood by man.
Not sudden cries that make the spirit leap,
But measured steps, while real risks softly sleep,

Or slowly grow, across the ages vast,
Not in a day, that's made to fly so fast.
So trust the work, the evidence they find,
Not hurried fears that play upon the mind.

The way they look, the data that they seek,
Is science's voice, both patient and unique.