JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

This morning

rain is in the air

ants are on the march

long columns foraging

 

While in Africa summer rains

bring great clouds

of flying ants

tiny bodies hang-gliding in

on translucent wings

 

Not far from here

under darkening Middle Eastern clouds

men, women. children

lug a few feeble belongings

over ascents and borders

to rows of white tarpaulin mushrooms

springing up

while storms wash

comfort, brick and mortar

away to mud

 

We watch well clothed and buttoned up

against the weather as on our tv screens

each stormy year the lines

of refugees grow longer

each day for them a final chance

to rescue something

carry it to safety

before winter sets in