The way the tree is trimmed
reminds me of the Acacias
from childhood issues of National Geographic.
How apt, then, that the grass—
brown, brittle, motionless—
mirrors the savanna, a tinderbox
ready for an errant spark.
Fires will come,
cleansing the forests.
Tornadoes, too,
more frequent than before.
Rain is a distant memory,
a ghost of bygone springs,
and will remain so
until hurricane season arrives,
earlier each year,
more impatient, less forgiving.
The Truth About Tigers 