Verge of Extinction

The brochures still promise penguins by the score, 
lined up in black jackets along icy shores.

Tourists book expeditions -- cameras mounted on tripods, 
Expectant of capturing that perfect Kodak shot. 

But glaciers have been shrinking, the ice has lost its lure; 
The planet's running on a ‘grab whatever’s deemed yours’.

The penguins hurriedly meet on a rapidly melting floe: 
"Have humans read the warnings?" Well, obviously not.

And somewhere, the ‘biggies’ secretively draw blueprints
Calculating profits from Antarctica’s rich oil fields.

Then, in all righteousness, environmentalists meet;
Discuss how best to right the wrongs.

It's a slow and solemn warning to a world filled with greed;
When penguins will be depicted on postcards as ‘had been’.

The penguins, if any remain, may waddle by and grin: 
"Thank you for your concern, but it’s too late to recycle us in!"