The Ice Weeps Water Poem by James McLain

Before critical though decides to leave me.

Watching the old trains that carried people across the west
back in the day being fire breathing monsters that belched
incredible volumes of smoke, soot and ash.
Factories of wast other countries that need to be as we are
when they weren't, 'but now will.
A century and a half of trillions of tons with no clouds in
the sky on the water line the sun is not as it once was.
I know what i see, i know what i smell, i know it's not natural
i know it's not hell...not yet.
Even without said such, 'critical thought the planet can not
but suffer.