Camp Chair Safely in the Shade

Buzzards circle scrub oaks on the mesa.
Swifts cut cursive scripts just beneath.
Chickadees and other little chippy birds
Perch in junipers, sing, dart tree to tree.

Nothing much else in this air but air,
Which is sweet, which is a breeze.
You can pick up your devices and check,
If you so please. No cell, no radio static.

That will change, barring the great collapse
Everyone seems to have been fantasizing
These days, lasting now for decades.
But for this day, just a soft wind on skin,

Away from the noises of voices, of voices
On waves, on waves. Selfish, selfish, safe.