Midnight approached no more quickly
Than noon. The RCMP station glowed
More and more brightly as the summer night
Progressed. Would it have been better
Not to know even half as much as the little
Known, of cheaters and lovers out there
Wrapped in their hungry caress, of planets
That had storms that could swallow Earth,
Of books that stated as plainly and well
As any humans ever could how we lived,
We all lived under awful, temporary duress?
By the station, trees tilted nonchalantly
In the wind that had nothing to do with them,
The same trees that in higher winds a night
Earlier crushed local hot tubs and pickups
Under inevitable and accidental deadfalls,
Freaking out some neighbors, distressing
Quieter others. From a window now comes
That false optimism that being a spectator
Means not being a participant anymore,
In no danger, no danger at all. Run fingers,
Then, on the edge of this sill. It could blow.
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