The wedding veils are oppressing them,

are in the trees singing

like yellow frogs back from the river -

the cows too are

just returned from the river

and they are singing loudly

to the frogs a dull repo

of magistrate’s vows, a blue haried

shaman descends from the clouds saying

Lucky Strikes means fine tobacco,

golly gee -

it’s the nicotine in the insecticide

that’s killing the bee larvae,

they are the long sleeper -

human beings

are climbing into the trees

to steal the veils,

accidentally they are pollinating

the pear orchards. The paper hives

are burning.

It’s a good time to be alive

and well in Sacramento. That is,

before the floods and the volcano.