Snow remained low on the mountains
After a stern winter. The sun was a surprise.
The forecast had cited thunderstorms
Then drizzly showers and overcast skies.
None of it. Silver-headed, cloudy elders
Arrived in the morning to find flowers.
Little children showed up eventually,
Cavorting between the greenhouses,
Building forts, making trouble for parents
Who were trying to appear in control
In front of the elders also trying to appear
In control of their own times and lives.
A teacup Yorkie, ten years old, dodged
The feet of adults, panting and begging
And growling at the towheaded toddler
Determined to make the doggy his friend.
Hours went by. A parade of people, a braid
Of ants carrying crumbs, each with a flat
Of seedlings or flowers, proceeded away
From the semi-translucent hangars
Of hothouse delicates planted among
The mountains, whose snow remained low.
A black bear cub foraged by the highway.
A road crew stripped a length of asphalt
For resurfacing. The children grubbed
In the cheese plate, the cookie dish,
The condiments, and chewed on hot dogs.
Ishi rolled a cigarette and finally sat down.
Nicky the Crawler, nearly deaf now, growing
Forgetful, but still jittery and singing,
Demanded of body the answer to a question
More like a fragmented sermon: "People,
People don't care what they put in the air.
I'm not going to get all heavy, but you see,
You know what's in the air. I care. You don't,
Do you? I got my answer. What's your name?
Don't worry, I'll still smile at you and say hi."
Forest and Fox, siblings, had to go. The sun
Still fenced with the clouds and the lake
Called out, also singing, "I got your answer.
Don't worry. I'll still shine at you and be cold."
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