They imagine even the earth feels sunburnt
all the hills unclothed, forests slung in piles of woodchips
the plains crack and warp and wish for night
valleys no longer dark, but exposed
It's not that they don't find the sun useful - they need it to survive

It's just
too
much.

In the heat, decay increases, bones bleach white
Everything is stretched and pulled and whirring
Cells shrink, mouths search for cool water
The ghost forests only give ghost shade - what good is that?
With borders shut virtual travelling just reminds them what is lost

When they're not spending hours hurtling along tarmac they notice more
They wonder - why did we do all those things?
That last white rhino, the Indian cheetah, a softshell turtle - all withered in the sunlight whilst they focussed on growth and market predictions
Now, they wonder at a mountain goats on Welsh streets
and a bearded vulture seen over the Severn Estuary - wildlife anomalys
Realised this sixth extinction threatens us, too
They feel a kind of queasiness that they believed themselves immune.

The factories don't truly shut though - supply lines remain open, largely.
Arterial highways with bloated trucks
Manufacturing barely ceases, though they feel a slight pinch -
Delayed Ebay orders from China and other inconveniences
Makes them think, though. For a moment.

They call this the Great Pause.

They do stop, for a while. She takes his hand.
They sit on the porch and notice the silence, the stars.
The new moon rises corpulent and rotund
Ready in the low sky.
Ask me! it whispers. Can we take the night? they reply
The sun is going down, as it's meant to.
They wish the sunrise not to come.

It is so quiet now, and cool, and soft.