2018

The landscape
Through the window frame
Is tidied into rectangles.

Comfortable illusion.

We watch as though clarity
Is beneath our notice;
As though deprivation
Is sure cost
Of relieving Earth.

We tiptoe between resolutions of our species.

New homos have yet to show themselves.

Our late successes
Splintered nature.

People expand,
Unchecked like locusts
Starved by their appetites.

Few expect extension of a future
Resembling the present;
Time is prized.

Breath of Eucalypts.
Sparkle of leaves.
Late afternoon glow.
Birdsong.

"Clouds" May 2, 2018