Nibble Of Kibble

Man is a nibble of kibble of Nature,

the merest nibble of kibble to Ma.

I turn off the radio, classical music,

grand, but not like the wind outside,

whipping up to a wicked storm.

Man is so little a nibble, I laugh.

And Mother Nature laughs as well.

What a nibble of kibble! She snorts,

palm trees bending in half.

She laughs her ass off, Ha! Ha! Ha!

You and your fucking Anthropocene!

Have coal, will travel, says Mr. Man,

have oil as well, have nuclear fission, 

fusion, the works.

You are still a small part, she says, blowing.

One small part, you little shit.

(From time to time She feels profane,

thinks of taking off roofs.)