Poem: On the lift

On the Lift

There’s not a better place

on earth than sitting here

with Bill McKibben

 

in County Tire’s waiting room.

Our cars hoisted on two

lifts. Two men behind

 

the glass, swapping out

our sets of pray this winter’s-

over-tires. Balancing the others

 

with weights found

on fishing lines, the balanced

bubbles indicating our wait is

 

almost over. Although

the way clouds are gathering,

the temperature dropping,

 

it may be better to have prayed

the snow’s staying away

for one more swapped day.

 

Spring for winter. To let

the plows stay where they are

in the barn of a town shed.

 

Salt and sand becoming

a mountain again. The roads

clear, not worried about melting

 

black ice, a freaky

snow storm we could have

predicted. I don’t have to say

 

anything more to Bill about.

How we go about saving

the earth, one season to the next,

 

winter to spring tires.

The lines we have to

stand in. Raising our signed

 

voices. Speaking with

our bodies. Waiting here

for more than an hour,

 

the clouds gathering

this afternoon’s

decision. 

— Gary Margolis, Cornwall

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