by Wayne Scheer
It can be confirmed:
Both Muammar Gadaffi
And summer are dead.
While it requires gruesome photos
And verification from varied sources
To certify the end of the evil colonel,
Summer's demise is easier to ascertain—
My turtle has stopped eating.
So to what poetic heights
Or depths
Will I take the end of an evil era
And the start of a new season?
You got me, bud.
While dictators topple
And nature cycles
I'm left at a loss to express what it means
Beyond change happens and we adjust
Our politics and response to nature accordingly.
I wore a jacket over a sweatshirt on my walk this morning
Although I hiked the woods near naked this past weekend.
The people of Libya will rejoice in the downfall of a tyrant
And then settle into the realization that it probably
Won't change what they'll eat for dinner tonight.
We humans have about as much insight into what it means
As my turtle has about why he's lost his appetite.
Still, we go on,
Wearing jackets, and then coats with fleece-lined gloves
As the citizens of Libya cheer change
Before returning to the routine of their lives.
Wayne Scheer has locked himself in a room with his computer and turtle since his retirement. (Wayne's, not the turtle's.) To keep from going back to work, he's published hundreds of short stories, essays and poems, including Revealing Moments, a collection of flash stories. He's been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and a Best of the Net.
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