IN THE CITY OF SHIPS

  

Washing my dishes,

I can see through the window

The Great Crane that points

Diagonally to the moon

From the south side of town.

 

Colossus of iron,

He towers like the heron

In the marsh below—

Practicing right mindfulness

For the moment of action.

 

Destroyers await

Their unholy christenings,

And the sailors freeze

In rapt attention,

No option but to obey,

 

Forfeiting their freedom

For God and for Country,

Sworn to defend the Bill of Rights:

The supreme self-sacrifice

For the sake of corporate gain.

 

The heron’s bill stabs

An eel in the rustling reeds;

Spontaneous nature guides

His flight across the river

To a nest in a gnarled pine.

 

Battleships of black cloud

Threaten preemptive strikes

Against the American Empire.

The heron broods on its egg.

I wring out my wet dishcloth.

 

 

Bath, Maine