Slice of Occam’s Razor – Crystal Snoddon

Among jack pines, breathe botanic sighs, waves of leafy unconcern.

All competing roots delve for trace nutrients soaked in soil, paint for

granite hypotheses, shields of stony belief covering unrelenting volcanic

core. Above sits the one small child atop picnic blanket spread, mossy

green, gazing silent with curious eyes to grasp cerulean skies,

clarity cross-hatched in the fewest lines of frothy white vapor. Airplanes’

steely husks barely perceptible, assumptions in contrail mist. Mesmerized,

his mother, his uncle shout, “How they should be ashamed, filling atmosphere in

spray, government planes, poisons they’ve selected. Damn chemicals! Stay

hidden beneath these branches – stay safe, dear William under earthy mulch

from this mouldering conspiracy, as did our ancestors of Ockham, (c.1287-1347).

Crystal Snoddon is a poet from Canada.

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