This month comes to us in a dragon's form,
Exhaling greenhouse gasses, smoke and fire;
Then leaves us with a fiery serpent's charm
In circumstances that seem grim and dire.
Cool evenings do not provide escape,
From torrid days, as tears do not from sin;
Our fecund land the dragon lives to rape -
We're in a fight that we can never win.
The autumn is prorogued, set back a time;
Gone are the cool late Augusts of the past,
Before we sold our souls, before the crime
Of sleeping with the beast: the die's now cast.
In selfishness and lust we played the whore,
And now there is no discharge from the war.