a flock of disaster, the flying monkeys
they drop from the sky, a terrible rain
doing the bidding of their twisted master
screeching and howling with triumph
vaulting back into the air
their flight is an insult to all of creation
they return to the dark castle
to await further instructions
the stocky munchkin farmer watches
the cloud of horror pass over head
wonders what the witch wanted
worries that some day he will
feel the grasping claws
lifting him to an unspeakable fate
yearning without much hope
for the days when clouds
were good news
we love this story
the sweet thrill of fear
imagining such a horror
and the security of knowing
that in a world with winged monkeys
all you need to be safe
is courage and a bucket of water.
somewhere far far away,
an oddly garbed farmer watches
a predator drone circle
and head back to base
to await further instructions
and after a hard day of
raining destruction and keeping me safe
somewhere in kansas
the pilot logs off and goes home
to kiss his wife and hug his children