I think I’ll wait ‘till enemies
become friends again.

I no longer read the Sunday Times,
yelping about trivia and carnage.
Tragic lands, drenched in blood,
all in the name of one true God.

Embraced by limbs
of a massive Beech tree
with Runic aphorisms
engraved for posterity,
I lean on its elephantine trunk,
feeling as fortunate as Croesus,
stilled by patches of passing clouds
and the sapphire-blue of a winter sky.

A flock of grackles
and stubborn starlings
squabble over sunny perches.

Liberated from reading
the news of the day
I let my shoulders down
and breathe mindfully.
Smiling, when I think
of the applause I’ll get
from my green vegan friends
for the trees I’ve saved.

My friends are pure souls
who eat no animals.
They hope to save the planet
and feed the starving poor.
They use no paper,
not even on the john;
water does a better job.

I vow to be a carnivore no more.

I must learn how to straddle a bidet.