Celebrations
by Odin Roark

The grass,
What little of it grows here,
Waits patiently behind the rock.

The spring sun has risen
One hour past.
The glacial river
Arouses the canyon.
It is the day.

How long the grass has watched,
The tree has titled its branches,
The leaves have contained themselves.
But today…

There it is.
The first petal reaching out.
Its stem quivering.
Another opens.
And another,
Spreading open their cover of pride.
An alpine moment.
A celebrant spring.

Leaves applaud.
Grass sways in the breeze.
Eagle and hawk circle,
Their reverence accepted.
Nature is pleased.

Higher above…

A clandestine flight.
A silent covert glide,
From whose wings
Comes a sudden burst of fire.

Into the canyon’s village
Erupts the cacophony of death.

The mountain’s silence falls dead
Behind flame-filled smoke rising,
Rushing skyward,
Chasing eagle and hawk asunder.

Thousands of miles away…

Cheers of success.
“Package delivered.”
Men applaud.
Women applaud.
A different celebration begins…

And ends
For this day.