Prophesy

“..we hurry, with the greatest possible speed and noise and violence, through our recreation- for what? To eat the billionth hamburger at some fast-food joint hell-bent on increasing the “quality” of our life?”
- Wendell Berry

There was a flash of brown feathers
as the house sparrow above me
built her nest in the bottom swoop
of a red lowercase e
glowing on the orange brink storefront.

The glass doors part for my arrival
and I enter, bathed in the unholy
yellow buzz of fluorescent lights,
the oppressive glare of neon packaging.
I wander the field of shining red plastics,
shrink-wrapped flesh, and dried tropical fruit.
Electronic crickets and soulless birdcalls are piped
from speakers, the sign advertising the sounds of nature
for sale.

Outside the trees grow strong, their branches held loud
in prayer to St. Giles, their
ambitious roots
making waves in the paved sidewalk,
the only outward sign of struggle.