while power outages were wide spread,
        cattle on the nearest farm
        lay in the round shade of old forest grown
        oaks once seedlings.

        The spring there has been flowing instead
        of drying up like untold numbers do in drought. The farm
        in the time of the hunter gatherers has known
        many histories and wild game killings.

        I remember when an oil well was drilled in
        on the flat near a pond. A man removed his clothes
        and danced in the gushing black oil.
        He was soon joined by a naked woman. They danced.

        They danced wildly and hugged in
        time, I thought to the music of a rose,
        or the patter of the falling drops of oil.
        A crowd gathered, cheering. They danced

        those two to celebrate their good fortune.
        I am pleased I did not miss their dance.
        I wondered how in the world they would get clean.          
        but the crowd kept growing as word got out–

        came  only to watch them dance.