A Sonnet About The Weather
by Alana R. Murphy et al.
Feb 25, 2017 · 1 min read
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art as lovely and as temperate.
It’s February, though, this shit is cray:
The climate-change deniers self-fellate.
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
A stink-eye at an earthly populace
Whose grasp of formal logic fast declines
And still like wanton rabbits copulates.
But though our race shall fall, its memr’y fade
To vestiges of a corrupt regime,
And death doth brag we wander in his shade —
Still must we carpe hard this balmy diem:
So long as Hel’ios warms and does not scorch,
I’ll sit and drink some rosé on the porch.
