Climate Control

I strut down mountainsides; Paul Bunyon's got nothing on me. What I see is green living, Long grasses, and little else. So tell me, Is this what you wanted? Did all the ecologists come together To agree on one final answer? I dreamt of foliage last night. Pretty orange petals Drifting in my mind. So your parents tell you This is true; This is Nature at its finest. I tell you to want more. Take a damaged pinecone And thrust its rough edges into the fire. Laugh at the flames. Focus on Nature's finite existence, And you will realize, That all the beauty Of all the world, Can fit in a three by three Square section of your local cinema's seat. So, catch the river while you can. It runs green and smells like spring But it won't last too long.