May Day, A Poem
MAY DAY at PIPER SHORES
The windows, we kept shut last night,
to keep the toxic fumes outdoors.
By morning, it is raining,
as I set about some chores:
Feed the birds — but they’re not here…
Cut some herbs — no, can’t eat them…
OK, walk to the beach to start the day,
but signs on the grass say to stay away…
So I head to the path, on down the lane,
and in front of me lies the following scene:
Yellow pellets litter the pavement.
Earthworms that crawled there are curled up dead.
Puddles dissolving the chemical toxin
soak in my shoes and go to my head.
So it’s back to the cottage we call home,
through the stench of pesticide thick in the air…
I feel like a mouse being run through a test
to see how much will lay me to rest.
— Suzan Bryher Dill