After the Storm, the Neighbors Do Yard Work

Here's the light back 
in the sky, with floodwaters
receded as if to say it isn't
time yet for the big obliteration.

Here are branches and other tree
debris thrown down by wind, all
the little nests remaindered
from spring or summer.

The sounds of leaf-blowers
rip through the quiet of morning;
rakes comb through lawns of green.
We are so eager to re-order our

small portion of this fading universe:
so eager to gather leaves for burning,
to plan next summer's holiday on
some island not yet under water.


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