This arose from a petty controversy in my neighborhood about whether children should be playing on the rock pile after the construction workers went home.

Rock Piles

Ukrainians fear for homeland

Assad walks free.  Tibetans pray

At the gate of the Mandarin school

Preparing to starve, the Sudanese

And as air surpasses 400 ppm of CO2

Kids stand atop the Near West Side rock pile

Squinting to see it all

  

            But their voices, their smiles

Whitman, bored on the shelf

Children, driven cautiously around piles

That once hauled brave quests to their peaks

He would have climbed too, howling

At liberty in the neighborhood, tilting

Down Commonwealth.  Safety--that quality

Forgotten when rushing--falling

            Silent and inconsequential

Accustomed to the new regime

In yards and work and fears

Our necks bent over tablets
Overhead the Sandhill Cranes
Are circling should we look
Question directions, walk to the shelf

Unwrap that book that once spoke

            Nothing of safety