Udtong Dako

by Vincent R. Pozon

I smell your existence
in the souls of leaves
rising from a small fire
started and kept alive
by a neighbor
assigned by ritual
to keep a few square meters
of the world tidy

I hear you in the warbler
in the shedding tree
near my window
the tree that feeds the leaves
the neighbor sweeps
to keep the fire alive

I see your thinking
as I wallow in the calm
of frozen trees
there are no children
in the park today

your sun declares
the midpoint of the day
unhealthy
makes the swing seats
and slides untouchable

There is a slight murmur
of a plane
astray you’d think
as planes seldom pass this way
my way
eastward
the pilot decided
the tower assented
but hey you kept it aloft
helped the busy onwards

I stay in your shade and listen
to the nearing rumble
and the whinging of a world
that does not look up at the sky

They see only the cracks
and the gossip of the sidewalk
they check their screens
count the hours in traffic
babble about
a government official gone gay
or the office manager
who has a drink or ten a day

They will not lift their eyes
above the horizon
they see the nimbostratus
and the political storms
and the news of the bad
and the news shaped bad
by newsmen

they do not see the cumulus
and the blue hope above
the plans afoot and planes aloft
or the god in the sky.