Morning in the Park While the World Burns
Robin eats a juicy, fat worm in the grass
Red shouldered hawk, kee-aahs as it circles above
A brown haired child laughs while swining
Life being what it is, unaware
Of danger lurking Fascism creeping,
Creeping, creeping ever closer
While humans pretend
Pretend, pretend
Until the knocking At the door
2 thoughts on "Morning in the Park While the World Burns"
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“Until the knocking at the door”–yes, I feel that. The contrast of normalcy to what is happening alongside it. Thank you.
Powerful and stunning poem in language and meaning.
And that last stanza lands so well with “Until the knocking At the door”