Flood

Sophia A. Bienes

The eve was met
A flurry of warnings
Of billowing waves
And forceful winds 

That dampened the merrymaking
At their nests
And blanketed the city
With a sinister tempest

Invasive was the flood
An uninvited guest
Filled every nook and cranny
Of filth in crevices 

Like my worry, the rain: incessant
Like their faces, the skies: somber
Like the winds, the flood: hostile
‘Twas indeed a cold December 

Could it be us
The cause of all of this?
It must be us
To answer nature’s pleas

If we take, should we not give?
If we harm, should we not mend?

If we pollute, should we not clean?
And if we only have one world, should we not preserve?