The pika climbs the snowless slopes in hope
of finding cooler climes. A tailless kin
to hares, he shelters under stones to cope
with rising temps within his furry skin.
The ball of fur appears to roll than hop.
From rock to rock, he gathers summer sedge
and dries his store of winter food atop
a stack of hay to give his life an edge.
At lower elevations, glaciers melt
and won’t return. Sierra summers grow.
At higher elevations, showers pelt
this chap. His drooping head awaits the snow.
When climate changes fail to chill the sky,
the sun’s increasing heat will kill this guy.
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Author Notes
Pika: Related to rabbits, the American pika thrives in snow and will die within six hours if temperatures reach 77.9 degrees Fahrenheit (25.5 degrees Celsius). As a result, scientists view pikas as an indicator specifies for climate change. As the climate warms, pikas are becoming extinct at lower elevations of alpine mountain ranges throughout the western United States. At the same time, the remaining pikas range higher up these mountains in an attempt to escape a warming planet. My poem imagines the day when a pika reaches a mountaintop and finds rain instead of snow and nowhere else to go.
Photo Glenn Nelson.
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