Shutdown

The American government has shut down
and as if I'd foreseen this tragic, civil dispute
I find myself elsewhere;
standing among birches and yellowed lindens—
catching peacefully the last amber drops
of summer on their fluttering parchment sheets.
Overnight came frost and now she drips
down a nearby streetlamp, weeping a woeful theme
to shame them, and sanction us.
The iced blades of grass cut like fine shards of glass into our boots
as we make our way to work;
and we manifest the word, society.
Pedals turn, stomachs churn
with premature cravings for daily soup,
though it be shy over breakfast time.
But under this slipping sun
we Swedes stand and work together.
All that's shut down here is the sensation in our fingertips.