There is still joy
On the other side
Of the breathing shadow, where
A faithful moon rises
Over microchip skylines,
And the miraculous lift
Of two sheet-metal wings
Carries you
Up,
Over red country, blue cities,
Through the black, white, and grey
Of your nation’s upheaval.
Still your cells pump and shake
To the beat in your earbuds,
And loyalty earns you
A free glass of wine.
A day of good work
Is still a good day
As we fight for this land
That is larger than politics,
And small, like today,
Like the patches of weeds
Feeding monarch flights
Down the slip-disc spine
Of this fractured way.
Raise a glass to the moon,
To the butterfly spirit,
To the red-loving man
Who despite all the polls
Nearly shed tears today
In a room of blue strangers
Sharing stories of nature’s design.
It is messy down there
In the dark of the motherboard –
Where the chasing of green
Has chased grasses away...
Where the valiant monarchs,
The low-hanging birds,
And the burrowing bees
Are all refugees now,
Moving where,
We don’t know,
Under light of this moon, or
Still in its shadows
Like yesterday’s assumptions,
Or tomorrow’s dream.
So drink up, coastal grievers!
There is still room for joy –
For your poems, your kisses,
Your dancing, your song
In this new world demanding our
Vigilance.
There is hard work ahead,
And much good work behind,
And the salt of our effort
Only sweetens the taste
Of our tears for this heart-
bursting moon.