Providential Perspectives

(in an election season’s time of crisis)

What wonder that our florae opened up
to greet the sun’s delayed awakening!
We now salute the rose and buttercup
despite our soaring eagle’s clipped right wing.
Yet burgeoning does not grow out of air,
but from what farmers planted in the ground.
A lot of them are rooted in despair
that future harvests may not come around
to feed the manifold who plow the land.
It’s true that some sow from misguided greed,
and others foolishly misunderstand
agronomy. The well-meant try to breed
with gentle thrust and democratic zeal-
apparently with no less mass appeal-

a crop that better serves essential wants.
They see where others plunder fertile soil
and gather up its crop with nonchalance,
while they’re left bitter fruit, despite their toil.
The cautious opted to grow fireweed
so that predacious herbivores keep out,
until their toxic farmland grew to seed
and left them much worse than they care to shout
about. Indeed, some gardeners meant well
when they employed deft husbandry to keep
out pests who’d pillage produce that they’d sell.
But they forgot that what we sow we reap.
And though it’s time now to expunge the fruits
of such harvests, we’d best address their roots.

Frank De Canio was born and bred in New Jersey, and worked in New York for many years. He's been published in Danger, Pleiades, Genie, Write On!, Red Owl, Blue Unicorn, Ship of Fools, and Dissident Voice among others, He loves music from Bach to Amy Winehouse. Shakespeare is his consolation, writing his hobby. As poets, he likes Dylan Thomas, Allen Ginsberg, and Sylvia Plath. He also attends a Café Philo every other week in Lower Manhattan. Read other articles by Frank.