On a rock at the head of the cove
an American bittern stretches his neck.
Six Canada geese feed in the long grasses
near Frank’s boathouse:
one goose, alert, is on point
guarding against danger.
American and Iranian gunboats
play chicken in the Straits of Hormuth,
while attack dog Israel strains
to be let off the lease:
Armageddon shimmers
on the near horizon.
The dog explores enticing scents,
flushing a colourful pheasant
from the long grass.
Crickets lament summer’s passing.
A gang of perpetually adolescent bluejays
play boyish, noisy bird-games,
and empty the feeder.
In the Canadian North
ice levels are the lowest
in recorded memory:
the Prime Minister will make his annual Arctic junket,
so all will be well.
Chinese interests aggressively pursue
Canadian resources, while corporate interests
gleefully check their projected bottom lines.
The school bus drops off older children,
while mothers wait with siblings in strollers.
Old men walk slowly down the road,
reflecting on different days
with younger horizons.
Religions, whose prophets taught
peace, respect, tolerance and inclusion,
are controlled by madmen and zealots
who compete for new, more abhorrent ways
to spread a message of hate and death,
while adherents are conditioned
to obey, not question.
Compliant media spew propaganda buzzwords,professionally designed to ensure complacency,
and dull the mass mind.
Across the bay, a loon laughs,
while the old hippie on his verandah
sips his coffee
and finds much beauty, and a personal peace,
but very little
to laugh about.
