Seeds Of Knowing Poem by linus gerald

The sky no longer whispers as it used to.
It arrives in fragments —
flood without warning,
sun that lingers too long,
winds that rewrite the soil.

Fields once guided by memory
now hesitate beneath uncertain seasons.
Farmers read clouds
like unfinished sentences.

But somewhere beyond the horizon of guesswork,
data gathers.

In satellites tracing silent arcs above the earth,
in ocean temperatures quietly rising,
in wind maps and rainfall models,
science listens
where instinct can no longer rely on yesterday.

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change compiles the chorus of evidence.
The World Meteorological Organization tracks the pulse of the atmosphere.
And in research stations, laboratories, and rural advisories,
numbers turn into warnings —
warnings into guidance.

A forecast becomes more than prediction.
It becomes seed selection.
Planting date.
Water stored before drought arrives.
Harvest saved before flood claims the valley.

Climate science does not till the soil,
but it steadies the hand that does.

It teaches us
that resilience is not resistance —
it is adaptation with foresight.

That food security is not charity —
it is planning rooted in evidence.

That the future will belong
not to those who deny the storm,
nor to those who fear it,
but to those who measure it,
understand it,
and plant anyway.

And so beneath a changing sky,
knowledge becomes irrigation.
Data becomes shelter.
Evidence becomes hope.

In a warming world,
the harvest will favor
those who listen
to the science
carried on the wind.