Wind Farming
the planet spins
and the thin, thin sheath
of atmosphere surrounding
struggles to keep pace
wrenched along by gravity
just a bit
grudgingly
and so the wind blows
always, always, always
as we tiny forms
scrabble all over
the surface
living in between these layers
dependent on both
and always, always
hungry
we ate the trees
we ate the coal
we ate the oil
and it’s not all gone yet
but we can see the day coming
and our only saving grace
may just be
learning to eat
the invisible
our house is in motion
(as it turns out)
and it’s made
of candy
Produced by Laura Rice.
