Authored: April 4, 2017

There is a smell in the air
Something putrid on the wind's tail
The sun still has bite
But the wind bears testament to a coming cold
I stand at the summit of a hill
Overlooking a creek laced with factories
And telegraph towers.

That smell is acrid
Like something has gone off
I walk towards the creek
The tides have ebbed
The Mangroves are sick
The Green is tainted.

I hear the machinery of the factories
And hear this painful gurgling
There's that smell
Being released into this decrepid creek
I don't have to look far
Dead fish lace the mangroved muddy shoreline
And still onwards our march continues.

Do fish not deserve life?
Do mangroves not deserve the right to grow?
That smell is overpowering
Our ecosystems are failing
Proof beckons on why we have lost our way.

The clouds race the sky
The winds are cold
The sun is resolute
It is early Autumn
I turn and walk away.