Why don't they leave us alone.
I simply say, why not?
They leave us with the slow drop of dew that
swings on the branch, with the pumpkin that bites
the air and holds orange or red to
than a bee or a butterfly
make your nest there.
Why don't they leave us the moon and the river and the
lily torn at night in lights
that hide from the blue song of the crickets.
Take your shows with you,
its hurricane buildings and its fast
megabytes and their digital chlorophyll circuits
and their harsh laughter from naked bottles.
Why don't you just leave us alone,
with the chair and the mate and the book.
And the conversation and the silence and the slow
look carefully at the window,
behind the glass watch a child play.