The Arctic sea-cliffs are not silent
The birds, the murres, still throng the ledges
Black and white, sharp-eyed, clamorous
Even as half their millions are starved and dead
The birds, the murres, still throng the ledges
As we would still fill the New York streets
Even if half our millions were dead, crushed
Beneath weight of heat, a fatality never imagined
We would still fill the New York streets
Though senseless with grief, with loneliness
After a heat, a fatality never before imagined
A disaster beyond our comprehension
Though senseless with loneliness
The birds still fly, feed, tend their young
Despite a disaster beyond comprehension
Their world changed beyond recognition
Here, we would still work, tend our children
There would be no choice, never any choice
But in a world changed beyond recognition
A warning that could no longer be ignored
We would have no choice, at last no choice
If the dying took millions from a great city
The warning could then no longer be ignored
But this happened far away, a distant warming sea
This dying took millions of only birds
Somewhere far away, a distant warming sea
Just another warning to be ignored
The Arctic cliffs, after all, not yet fallen silent
This poem first appeared in New Verse News (2024).
—
Pepper Trail retired following a long career with the US Fish and Wildlife Service, and is a Fellow of the American Ornithological Society. His poetry has appeared in Atlanta Review, Catamaran, Rattle and other publications, and has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net Awards. His collection, Cascade-Siskiyou: Poems, was a finalist for the Oregon Book Award in Poetry. He lives in Ashland, Oregon.
