There is something ‘in the air’:

L’air du temps [and I don’t mean the perfume].

It’s not the sensation you get

When you can sense the seasons change

By the way the breeze feels

Winding its way

Through the hairs on your forearm,

Or the soft-green growth that signals Spring;

But it is like that somehow:

The early dawn light of a sort of

Subconscious seventh sense;

An ‘outlier‘ way beyond the sixth:

On the leading edge tightrope,

Teetering between impression and imagination.

Tsunamis seem to roll in slow-motion.

Beautiful.  Unusual.

But the reality is different:

They’re not waves

They’re veritable, high-velocity, walls of water

And when they make landfall

We are all, very literally, at sea.

It’s like that.

The Future Tsunami

Soon to break on the shores of the Present.

It’s still over Time’s horizon (just a bit?)

But I can feel it coming;

It’s over Time’s horizon

But I can hear its heartbeat thrumming

Deep in my chest,

Playing me basso-profundo

With the first refrain of a Bolero

Which will come

To an inevitable, unavoidable crescendo.

I look at our plot and I’m seeing a crying need

For vegetables and fruit

And a climate

Which is no longer as benevolent as it was:

We’re going to have to fight harder

To feed ourselves.

Chez Nous we’re declaring war

On waste of all types,

Animal lives, food, energy, packaging…..

We are in an almost insignificant minority

But someone has to so we’re doing it anyway.

Add global war potential

And energy costs spirallg rapidly out of control

To accelerating climate change feedback loops

And it’s the approaching Bolero Crescendo.

Phil Collins was right, there certainly is

‘Something Coming in the Air Tonight’.