It’s so quiet, said Oak to Pine
all I can hear are squirrels scampering
and soft brown mooing of cows with
heavy udders. Do you think they’ve
really gone? asked the grass, stretching
green fingers luxuriously.
Gone, bubbled water in a little brook
washing away some remaining pollution.
Gone, whispered a doe, leading her babies
down to drink. Asphalt snakes cracking
fissured in the heat slowly relaxed their
grip on the land. Above, mountains boomed
empty, empty and far to the west the sparkling
ocean alive with shrimp, silvery fish, oysters
and lobsters, echoed free, free. Breakers danced
a foamy jig across a shoreline that used to be
a beach, timbers of broken booths and deck chairs
piling up in heaps of rotting planks and scraps
of canvas, providing a shady home for crabs
sheltering from the sun.
Good riddance, sighed a little white cloud
sailing across a clear blue sky. Deep underground
two tectonic plates snuggled against each other,
I haven’t felt so delicious since the dinosaurs
disappeared, said the smaller one.
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© Johnmichael Simon