AS IF ANGRY
She began as if friendly,
That pretty day,
To mother the throng in the park,
To permit their play.
No angst and no reason to abandon their plans
To line up for climbs, twists and plummets
On steep skeletal frames.
For some, a summertime dare to prepare
For psychotic amusement—pitch dark to unnerve
—Silent ghosts appear to touch, taunt and scare.
On this sumptuous day,
Perhaps paltry prizes
For enduring game gamblers,
Or one could gorge on sweets, greasy ribs
And fat burgers.
Crushed pop cans, foam cups, candy floss holders; Waxed wrappers, wasted serviettes, lost tickets,
Even striped straws smeared with lipstick…
All was well for the trash-dripping humans
Creating weak Ozone—no concern.
She began as if nurturing, that gentle day.
But her breath was the warning,
Tenacious and damp,
As if to blow on a long cake
Too large to guess age or count candles.
No other caution she gave,
Not even to musicians plugged into the band shell.
She came as if angry.
Somber mood and thunderous steps;
Blew down a few tents;
Knocked over a petite human guest.
She brought with her a bruised sky.
Bright spikes from those crowded clouds
Tore through steel-grey’s supple flesh.
And then, her stern rain.
Mama-atmosphere at first had smiled,
Endorsing their frolic outside,
Yet it seemed she had lied.
She chastised once more,
An emotional tone,
And let her cold tears pour,
Forcing the throng to clear
Allowing her to cleanse the Slovens’ playpen.
For this is Planet Earth;
First hers, not theirs.
Alas, the humans would be back;
And so she brewed…
She’d be back, too.
L. P. Penner