It is garbage pickup day in Cambridge.
The empty bins are dancing in the street, rolling hither and yon, blown by the blustery gusts of wind, wind that has driven unimpeded from the icy Canadian tundra.
Neighbor corrals bin for neighbor; trash is secured house by house; the community thrives.
Martin Evans is an escapee from academia where he thrived for 35 years. He now potters around Cambridge, so he really didn’t escape academia!
Sure, blame the icy Canadian tundra every time!
This poem has everything. The spectre of big government, a whiff of international relations, climate change and even a whiff of garbage. But neighbors, and dancing, and the prospect of dancing neighbors, and somehow community preserves us from the utterer of blustery gusts of wind.
Loved your restatement of my story. Couldn’t see where the big gov was.
Good story. Finally read it.