Yes I was wise to mute
the sound of politics
now going on, this Republican
National Convention, this
RNC which has all networks
tuned to speech, to banners
and bunting,
to windy pompous airs
north of me, in Cleveland.
But I am here and they
are there, and I am glad
of such, and even balloons
that fall like rain cannot
entice my ear, since
sounds of brass and
emptiness
doth not a sating make.
I’d rather walk into
into the woods
to eye the traipsing
of the doe, to share high grass
with newborn geese or pass
one stubborn moose
and revel in his stare.
No need to roll my eyes
with Mother Nature--there,
affinity abides
with all sincerity;
it frolics free to join the
soul in barefoot warm-rain fun;
it is the glee of white-faced clowns;
it is bananas dancing,
feeding on guffaws.
So oft today, on walls, TVs
blare forth as boast
and flat as sass those goings on
of politics unsound.
Thus I mute--I turn them all
into a mime, and as I do
it suits me fine.
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