Making Waves
Take a body of water, a Great Lake
And draw a line, calling it a border.
Then let a president give the order
That he has a pressing claim to stake,
Being the Commander in Chief of the rain,
And which way the wind blows depends on him,
With the whole world subject to his whim,
No reason required, no need to explain.
Never mind those who have lived and still live
Lakeside and beyond, or generations
Yet to be who’ll transcend contending nations
And the imperial imperative.
Water laps at the shore ever the same,
Utterly indifferent to a name.
D. A.