I Pelt You With This Acorn

The world is full of empty carousels,
rusting. But that’s no reason
to dismiss this merry-go-round
as mere diversion. There are far
worse situations with which
to cross paths. For instance, a breeze
that propels a bicycle to cruise
from one position to another
by sheer force of velocity until
stopped dead in its tracks
by a squirrel who would have pelted
you with an acorn had it the proper
altitude. The branch of that tree,
perhaps. Or the roof above
the sullen carousel. It’s taking
these trees forever to reach blossom.
Soon, I’ll feel uncomfortable sitting
beneath them, when the dome of the sky
becomes irrational and green
and only peeks of light show through.