The Sonnet 2018

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Tough! Since no bard can any longer say –

This as an expression of anything but hate.

Much hotter that eye of heaven shines,

Its scorching heat forecasting days of dark;

Every arctic bear from bare hunger declines,

Nature shows her feral bite and not just bark;

Truer still this fiery summer shall not fade,

We will lose possession of all we’ve built.

Death shall brag how we bickered in his shade,

When the data’s blade was sharp unto the hilt.

So long as it feeds the greed, we’ll ignore the rising sea,

Until that day late when earth unleashes her wrath free.