I witness reflections of life
off oceans I often fly by.
Zone out at the greatest depths, though
marvel most creatures calcified.
Pumpkin patches now serve snow cones
which help me forget warming woes.
But plants adrift across the sea
won’t find relief or treats at home.
Though not in envy, poles are green.
A twist that’s taken centuries
focuses the lens of our moves
to final costs of energy.
Still, lava lamps of brightest blues
get rushed to every year for views
and sunsets off shores we abuse,
until the course says we lose too.
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