To Save the World
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

Loons on the unbroken lake inhale the early
morning mist through slits carved in their sharp, black bills,
turning it into fluttering otherworldly cries,

the deep pink little flowers near the shore welcome
the occasional teasing yellow swallowtail, and
thunder grumbles something unintelligible as

a screen door slams from somewhere across the lake
and children yell and run around looking for those
inner tubes that go on their arms so they can jump

into the lake before it rains. I once asked a kindergartner
what they wanted to be when they grow up
and they said smiling: “A firetruck!”

And anyway, a dragonfly has landed at the end
of the dock after long moments of tracing circles
in the air, and the reflection of the treeline

on the dark water is a stroke of genius, but I don’t
want to sing unending hymns of praise, and I don’t
think anything wants me to either, but dang it–

the morning is altogether dreamlike and the dragonfly
has disappeared and so have the loons, and all
that’s left are the children shrieking and splashing

and floating through the slow passing of time, and somewhere,
way across and through the trees, I hear a firetruck
driving fast and wailing, with a purpose to save the world.