Steven Schroeder
On clear days, Hong Kong is a white line
of mushrooms rising straight-stemmed brown-rimmed
on a scrap of blue that skirts the long bridge.
Yesterday, it was a bank of dark clouds
glowing red with three days of rain
towering over cities on both sides
to remind every living thing in them
how small we are, how little we know
of a water planet we inhabit
like insects on a dry leaf
floating on the surface of a pond.
This poem first appeared in Issue 5 (Nov. 2008) of Cha
Filed under : EDITION : Special Cha Edition