I read that this year the ground cracked,
rumbled and burped, ate whole buildings
and families, threw cars, swallowed trees
and threw a poor nation into despondency.
Also, a cap flew off,
I hear, in the ocean, causing crude oil to cruise
along the ocean’s tides, not refined enough
to leave the pelicans and dolphins, fish
and seaweed alone.
And today I sit
at my small octagonal breakfast table, hot tea
securely warming my hand, reading
while eating whole-grain toast, its goodness
drenched in sweet butter.
Today I am happy. For this, I apologize.