shallow, shingle-banked Severn trickles through Bridgenorth gulls gather in pools
n.b. Whatever rain falls this week will be welcome. The sign is superfluous. How can there be fish here, where the mighty river, bordering Wales and England, runs as thin as a shroud across stony ground?
wonder at mankind trains to Paris undersea pylons lift cables
systems of power connect us to each other bind us to our fate
n.b. Standing here overlooking Rainham Marshes, watching another bloody sunset, you can hear the electricity cables crackle as they carry charge towards the City of London.
If you listen really carefully, you can hear the insane laughter of stockholders celebrating multi-billions of profits being divvied up by BP, Shell and a few other energy companies, while the Earth’s climate spins inexorably out of control.
Nearby at Wennington, the scenes are of burnt houses, charred trees, scorched earth. Scenes familiar to residents of France, Spain, Portugal, Australia, California. What more proof does this once green and pleasant land need that things have changed, that we must change?
People blithely talk of access to air-conditioning, not aware that more energy is now used on such cooling equipment in summerthan that used in winter to heat us. It is we who are being conditioned by the air.