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The Tipping Point
Ron Arnold
I tape a Wildflowers poster on the wall
and ask my 2nd grade class to fill it in.
The girls’ ponytails sway as the scribble
with crayons and the boys attack the paper
like werewolves possessed by the full moon.
When they step back from their creation,
I am shocked. While most wildflowers
are white or in the blue-purple color spectrum
with petals that appear cool to touch,
the scrawled with golds, pinks, saffrons,
crimsons and scarlets until arm-weary.
And while most caterpillars and grasshoppers
blend in with the plants they inhabit,
my kids multi-colored each one.
Perhaps we could expect this after reaching
the tipping point. After global warming
has melted the ice caps and raised
the earth’s temperature by 3 or 4 degrees
and hurricanes have swamped our costal cities.
After the streams and rivers dry up
and drought threatens every farmer’s field.
All the wildflowers would morph into exotics
and the insects would become radiant rainbows.
I look at the Wildflowers poster again
with its clusters of bizarre colors and wonder:
How can we get it right
when all our politicians in Congress
and the White House have it wrong?