Dark trees clothe hills that rise up from the lake.
Reeds grow thick and tall around the water’s edge
standing in mud that’s moist and thick like cake.
The dull roar of the freeway is softened by a dusty hedge.
Angry yellow jackets maraud a hamburger at the edge of a table
while a mother chases a crying child.
A wasp, fat from summer’s feast, hops cautiously—mud, grass, table—to join the flies.
Glistening dragonflies skate on the air—hanging, stopping, darting—above the distant beach.
One politician belches threats from a radio to fight as long as he is able,
while feigning control, his voice turns terse and wild.
A commentator punctuates the program—history, analysis, opinion—with manufactured breathless surprise.
Another politician floats—reflective, eloquent, bold—above the problems just out of reach.