My Coldest Vermont summer on Record

This is a touchy subject but one I wanted to have some fun with.
Mostly since we have had such a cold summer. When you can refer to 70F degrees as "muggy", you really might have forgotten what 90F plus is (or my childhood Illinois memories of over 100 degrees+100 percent humidity for days). We are creeping up to the 80F range and now I worry the artichokes might shut off for awhile.
So have fun with my next poem. I did.

Global Warming
first draft
by Mary E. Gerdt
all rights reserved

The summer was predicted
To be an extra hot one
The polar bears were drowning,
I mean all and not one.

The ice cap receding like there is
No tomorrow.
The end of the world would surely,
Quickly follow.

The filthy air exhausting from our
Fires and cows and engines
Was warming up the air and
Causing mass frustrations.

The global messenger this summer,
Taking some vacation,
Was flying in his private jet
When it began a strange gyration.

It coughed and sputtered,
The first engine died,
Then number two it failed
Though the pilot tried,
The third one went
The fourth one whined and cried
The final engine held that bird up high
The pilot said a prayer.

Al looked out the window of his private plane
And thought how some thought he was simply insane.
He was sure his answer was to burn up the corn,
Ethanol was the answer,
His marketing plan born.

But alas like the engine on our poor garden tractor,
His fourth engine coughed and broke like a cracker.
And he sat in amazement, that arrogant man
Who thought to burn corn in his free falling plane.