Algae going
I was basking on the rocks
on the shores of Fernandina
with half of my colony
nestled together, a scaly thicket.
Then it occurred to me.
Algae going.
The sea is warm of late,
the greenery on the rocks
battered by constant surf
is withering of late,
and I see less of the penguins.
Algae going.
I foresee thunderstorms
as heralds of the warming,
lightning, twisted and contorted,
flashes above the islands.
Algae gone.
The colony is withered,
husks of lizards litter
the petrified beaches
and the skeletal reefs.
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