longboats row to shore unevenly
an uncertain metaphor plays out
grandma sits on the back porch
stitching up the holes in her
son's theoretical theories...
grandpa sits on the front porch
hoping the black coal will turn
white soon from this morning,
Elanor's vacation plans have
suffered minute changes since
toxic cargoes been offloaded,
june bugs await their arrival
in empty coffee cans formerly
used for fishing worms...
rain scrubs all backyard plans
until further notice as morning
flowers wish to get saturated...
desperate critters roam the yard
looking for kindness and a place
to spend the night - washing their
teeth in the falling rain... we see
the ends before the means and
have no justification at all...
morning brings the longboats
to our shores without considering
the rituals disturbed by their
inevitable presence and daring.
March 19, 2025
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