Penultimate

In this chapter there may be time to stop
the course of events. The roof of the world
hasn't dissolved completely from the heat 
of collected emissions. Everything 
that would flower is a little bit late,
but it might still be possible to sow 
fields without dreading the old 
aftermath of armies rising whole 
from under each rock. The clocks
haven't morphed into oversized lips
sliding down from their towers. 
Wind stirs the pages, fills sails. Wind 
that might actually fuel the change.