That axis is responsible, that tilt,
Creating seasons, the fluctuations—
Day and night, warmth and chill, melodious lilt
That sings an anthem to all Earth’s nations.
Twenty-three point four degrees fixes fate,
Sets the bound’ries for our beasts, planted seeds,
Sea-deep denizens—chalks the empty slate—
Orders accoutrements to meet our needs.
We’ve learned the consequences of that tilt—
We build and plant and weave in awe of it—
Learned to deal with winter’s ice, summer’s wilt—
Learned to expect—sometimes even profit.
But never learned to brace against the doom
That tilt creates: tsunamis and simooms.
(11/30/12)