Sonnet: At the Treeline
Exacerbated trees lined up along the far horizon,
spelling defeat for the nearby townspeople, ready
at last to speculate openly on their failure to elect
competent ministers and sheriffs and deputies.
Dismantling the silences around them, voluntary
amnesiacs filled in missile silos and adjacent
barns, as though no one were out there to threaten
them, their way of life. Rifts between generations
became more pronounced, threatening their pre-
consumerist idyll. Yet still, we take our daily
bowlful of lies and, adding milk and a sprinkling
of sugar, force it down. Leaflets fell from the trees.
The sky above, as hostile as ever, its deep blue
more incongruous with each passing moment.
Hal
Halvard Johnson
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