No more hiding in our hovels we will meet
the storm on the hill climb the highest
cell phone tower soaked and lightning-lit
remembering that our first love was Earth
the sound of mother’s heart drumming
the beat of the world we too are nature’s
children let us not be afraid we will heft
the burden of society’s lies into wildfire blaze
warm our hands beneath darkening skies
innocence will be our map—no more if only
no more shaming or guilt—we will hold
our fragile inheritance like an old dodgeball
a folded comic book in our back pocket
pumping pedals as we race downhill
so much for the worries of high school
what do they matter now this grief
that sharpens our appetite for living
gleams like a silver dollar inside us
a coin dropped in apocalypse fountain
our long-forgotten gods must be smiling
somewhere enchanted by the fancy
in our childlike eyes wide again with wonder
taking in the end of things like a Saturday matinee
Al Fournier
.