The Swallows Have Left
The orchards are bare
the sun no longer shines.
Waters flood the mainland,
avocados shrivel from a lingering drought.
There’s a sign on the door that reads:
“The Bees are Gone for the Season—
We’ll pray for rain but wait for the sun.”
…the swallows have left Capistrano.
The Swallows Refuse to Return
The greenback was once well oiled
till renewable energy raised its serpent head.
Hybrids and Uber-Lyft rides on the cheap—
promoted by Utopian masters of the carbon footprint.
A clock’s revolution | a turn of the hand.
A paradigm shift racing toward the event horizon,
the Singularity threatens neural networks with artificial constructs
—a perfect Anthropocene storm.
::you must remember this—we send our boys to war
but bring home *men* in caskets.
Sweethearts wave as trains leave the station—
…the swallows refuse to return to Capistrano.
Pablo Cuzco is an American writer of poetry and short stories. He spent his early years in France and Germany with his family. In his teens, he traveled across America with guitar in hand, writing songs and jotting memories along the way. Now, living in the Southwest with his wife, he has time to reflect and share those stories. His works can be found at Underfoot Poetry, The Big Windows Review, and on his blog Pablo Cuzco – in My Mind’s Eye.
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