How Different The Distance
When There’s Procrastination . . .

A Potential Ecological Disaster

So there she sat through all the summer,
Past all the Autumn leaves
That piled up around her and mulched her feet.
She would prevent an ecological disaster.
Before she crossed the stream.

There was plenty to eat, thanks to the squirrels
The trail of ants that carried back-breaking loads.
And ravens robbing the picnickers nests.
People stopped by for her autograph and worried
about her cold winter nights
If the disaster had not occurred.

She comforted them with “maybe next week”.
And she hallooed up stream to ask
If the disaster was on its way.
The echoes always answered “Not yet”

The last tourist left and she piled a shelter
Higher than her shoulders
and waited one more week. Then it happened.
It snowed that night and the stream froze
And she froze too to keep it company.

L. Fullington

If you've any comment on this poem, L. Fullington would be pleased to hear from you.