Article link: Mental illness rise linked to climate change
By sometime Tuesday afternoon
I’ll morph into a common loon.
And if not Tuesday, sometime soon;
Perhaps on Saturday at noon.
For climate change in May and June,
As measured from the large pontoon
That sails about my deep lagoon,
Will obfuscate the harvest moon.
And once the harvest moon is hewn,
The country will not be immune
To weather like the spring monsoon
That swells the rivers of Rangoon.
And then the climate change platoon,
Which finds such weather opportune,
Will turn beet red or dark maroon
And sing their global warming tune.
I wonder whether Daniel Boone,
Who shot his share of squirrel and coon,
Would choose to shoot or choose to swoon
When climate changers start to croon?
But I will seek the warm cocoon
Of Harry’s Silver Star Saloon,
My favorite local greasy spoon,
And ponder on the common loon.
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