Karma – Busy as a Beaver
By: Copper Rose
Not
everybody’s mean
but
there are some…
They
call him Bad City Boy,
shoots
the ancient snappers
that
eat the perch in his pond.
Poisons
the rabbits
that
chew the bark
from
his trees.
Traps
coons and muskrats
and
locks them
in
a cage—submerged
until
it’s too late—
until
the beaver arrives
in
my
protected backyard.
Karma—busy
as a beaver
that
gnaws down trees
just
the right size
to
build a dam—
water
rises, over the edge
of
Bad City Boy’s
manicured
bank
onto
his manicured lawn—
over
the sidewalk
into
his garage,
over
his driveway,
onto
the road.
The
finishing touch comes
from
the big rain—
his
heartless home
where
he lives all alone
perched
on a soggy knoll,
his
basement floods
to
the top of the stairs.
“I’m
a prisoner here,”
he
cries as the water
seeps
over his boots.
Mother
Nature and Karma
have
a non-refundable,
non-transferable
agreement.
“We
take care of our own.”
Gnaw
on that,
Bad
City Boy.
You
shouldn’t have
come
to the country.
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