The angels balance on the cloud bank’s moving edge.
Being angels they can easily fly or hover
without wings or with them. They look down
trying their best to remember Louisiana.
‘It was here,’ Ferulia says. ‘Or maybe there.’
They watch the polluted water extinguish the life
of many species and mutate some others.
Pig Duroc and Cat Ginger wade in water dark as tea.
It is ankle deep in this part of old Washington DC
‘It is low tide now, but dampish,’ the cat gingerly explains.
‘Especially now we are suffering from unending monsoon rains.
Clove your hooves and clog dance. That churns up baby squid.
They’re an easy catch. I’ll show you.’ Cat Ginger purred and did.
Pig Duroc did a pirouette, then a header, pranged a bream.
He ate fresh fish and chortled. ‘Without humans life’s a dream!’
A susurration of incoming rain provokes the jackdaws’ caws.
The darkening clouds blank off the sun that shone so bright at dawn.
The summer day fades right away and Calvinistic laws
of climate here make weekends drear. Fog rolls across the lawn.
Monday was a sunny day. From Tuesday on it was hot
while we were locked in offices without a chance to shirk
our duties and enjoy outside. Vacationers we’re not.
On weekdays we pursue one thing: we live to go to work.
The weekend is ours. Two entire days to do just what we will.
We can swim and surf and sunbathe if we can survive the chill.