Maybe if the globe spun faster

Then leaves would fall in little tornadoes

Spinning, spiraling with rage

For Earth who dared to steal

Their gentle leisure, lovely decent

From underneath crisp stems

Maybe if stars burned brighter

Moonlight would dim in comparison

And we would stop admiring

Reflections, instead exalting

Those who truly blaze

White with fury, with

Beauty, indescribably indignant

Maybe if clouds spun like cotton candy

Blue like the sky they string

Pink like when they settle

To mask the sun, too

As she plunges, shyly undressing on the horizon

Far too beautiful to behold

We, too, are angered by tides of others

But Earth plays her own harp.

And always will.