Little Streams

The summer stream barely covers the rocks and stones
In its winding bed
The long grasses that reach out of the water no longer
Bend to its current
Dragonflies rest and sun themselves lightly
Tadpoles no longer part of the foodchain
Frogs slide slowly under the surface
Up or down stream take about the same effort
And they only worry about the occasional bird
Or barefoot boy aiming to make his first conquest
Cattails grow to heights above the road
And brown
Each morning the sun rises a bit later and each evening sets earlier
Everything is hoping to collect that last bit of extra warmth
He blankly stares out of his high-rise apartment window
Lucky to pay for an eastern river morning view
Soon the undergrounds would disgorge gray creatures
That would fill the streets and look like ants around
A piece of discarded candy
Even women dressed in their colored uniforms looked
Dark from up here
He fingered the smooth slightly greasy metal in his pocket
Today
He lit another cigarette and blew and smoke against the glass
It looked like pictures he’d seen of cosmic explosions
As the white cloud dissipated all around him
Time to go
Lock the door, ride the elevator, take a cab
It all seemed so ordinary
Not actually a chill in the air, but that first day after days of heat
And humidity
When the dry air is a relief, when the heavy air of August breaks
And you know that summer is over
The coffee shoppe was full and active
Suits, three piece, double button, pants and dress
Steam coming from behind the scurrying coats on the other side
Of the counter
It was a study in black and white
Normal
The gun’s magazine held twenty rounds
It was empty in ten seconds
Scattering, falling people; screams; shattering glass and broken lives
Filled more than coffee cups