As Mighty Glaciers Recede

Credit NASA: Muir Glacier 1941/2004

 As Mighty Glaciers Recede  (Durham 1*)

As mighty glaciers recede

and leave great scars which cause alarm;

Be sure it is the rising heat

Of greenhouse gasses causing harm.

When coastal glaciers discharge

Their rapid melt, to chilly seas:

We know, that ocean levels will   

Rise swiftly and inexorably. 

By contrast, mountain glaciers

cause havoc through reduced cascades,

so downstream waters can’t suffice

to turn hydraulic turbine blades.

We need to switch from fossil fuels

To wind and wave and solar power:

Renewables already can

make all these risks a little lower.

For everyone who loves the earth

Clean energy must be the aim,

To strengthen hope the planet can      

Be saved through this essential change.

For as such massive change takes place

The least resourced will bear the toll

Of harshness in the furious wake

Of worsening weather through the world.

* I would like to thank Professor Chris Stokes in the Geography Department at Durham University for his help in inspiring the idea of writing about glaciers and ensuring the accuracy of the scientific aspects of this poem: composed during my stay at St John’s College as Visiting Fellow for the term.

A Lament of Water

A few years ago at St Leonard's church Assisi, I met an international water consultant. we had a fascinating conversation about the sheer waste of water in supply systems across the world - a situation that the Italian-based engineer advises on with a view to finding remedies. The volume of wasted water he described points to unbelievable levels of negligence, which I have tried to reflect in the following poem, which my engineer friend has checked for accuracy - and for that, I am most grateful. There are also major international questions as to who ‘owns’ water - but that’s another major topic for another time!

A Lament of Water
You seek me on far distant planets,
knowing I signal life.
Yet you who need me abuse me,
In hideous measure
Through ill-tended pipes.

At least one third of me, treated,
ensuring I'm drinkably pure,
is lost as I pass, through the mains, to a tap;
‘tis profligate! That's to be sure.

So whilst others struggle collecting
me, trekking to worrying source,
you have no concern for what you can't see,
that from stricken  pipeworks
I constantly burst.