Early Anthropocene Skinny Dip

Now we bathe in the breathless

Light of a full moon season,

With revolution’s shine

To shed our given names.

We, the Beacons of rising tides

We, the Witness to melting mountains

We, the Revelers at impossible stillness —

A choir crossing the heart of time.

Let us reign with open hands

Let us tend without dominion

Let us take only responsibility

Let us be the first generation

The ones who name ourselves —

We, the Guardians,

Whose children will not know thirst.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.