10-16-08 - A poem from Barton Stone

In Washington

Suited banksters talk of debt default, crowd control, and martial law.

Grave politicians promise yet again to follow them through hell itself
and a few local pet projects if necessary.

Concerned journalists soberly agree that something drastic must be done
to restore confidence.

Meanwhile at my house,

Confident oak leaves deposit free sunshine into rash acorns.

Unruly kinglets comb the leaves for small spiders.

Friends gather in small circles, newfound comfort in proximity.

Impenetrable blackberry tangles open onto riotous gopher burrows.

Outlaw scrub jays hide acorns under secret mattresses.

Undocumented stones crash unpredictably down the hillside.

I sit still on this buckwheat cushion, high grasses waving freedom all
around me.

We are in this together

and we are ready

now.