We Live on Eaarth

poem by Marianne Szlyk, copyright 2012

We Live on Eaarth

I walk home
through air
as hot and gritty as exhaust.
This is not the side of the highway.
Or the bus depot.

On this street,
neighbors grow roses,
peaches, tomatoes, grapes.
Purple and fuschia
pawlonia bloom.
Children ride bikes on the lawns.
I hope for a thunderstorm,
if only to clear the air.

But in the future,
thunderstorms will last for days.
We will not be able
to wait them out,
the way we do now.
We will not be able
to walk
or fly away.



Categories: poem by Marianne Szlyk

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