The killer to be, 
Her infinitely varied blues
Muted to black 
By the midnight sky, 
Dances slowly, rhythmically
Along the shoreline, 
Singing a gentle lullaby 
To the deserted dunes.
Beautiful, hypnotic display 
Hard to reconcile 
With her tempest temper, 
When welcoming arms 
Become hammers of destruction, 
Sending swimmers and fishermen 
Scurrying for cover.
She is the ocean, 
Symbol of the cycles
Of the natural world. 
Seemingly constant,
Yet subtly changing,
Left unchecked, 
She could swallow the world.

The politician,
Cadaver-thin vulture 
With talon fingers,
Paces his study in City Hall, 
Bulbous eyes glued
To a flickering TV,
Listening with disdain
As scientists rant—
Criticize, spread their lies—
Sanctimonious drivel
For impressionable fools.
Enemies should be known,
But he’s heard enough,
Stabs at his remote
To cut them off.
He closes the curtains
On a record snowfall 
That has turned 
The city glistening white,
Flops into an armchair 
With a glass of port.
Climate change does not exist!

Who would win in a wrestling match—
Man or water?