The circumstance and pomp of war
- nothing how the end was bore.

It snuck up, bagged in plastic, wrapped
in tin cans tossed from passing cars,
and cigarettes flipped at the stars,
by recycling bins unfilled, collapsed

protectant regulations allowing
industrial pollutions avowing
to choke blue skies with lasting smog,
foreshadowing our epilogue

- tiny acts where care was scant,
dismissed as insignificant,
nudging all toward tipping points
where nature's flow confounds, disjoints:

depleted sources not renewed,
oceans sold for love of crude,
tainted waters staining sinks,
endangered species on their brinks,

two degrees to rising tides
accelerating melting ice,
GMOs and pesticides,
- our planetary sacrifice:

The world, in time, may be reborn.
For now, some silence fit to mourn.