Karma – Busy as a Beaver
By: Copper Rose

Not everybody’s mean
but there are some…

They call him Bad City Boy,
shoots the ancient snappers
that eat the perch in his pond.
Poisons the rabbits
that chew the bark
from his trees.
Traps coons and muskrats
and locks them
in a cage—submerged
until it’s too late—
until the beaver arrives
in my protected backyard.

Karma—busy as a beaver
that gnaws down trees
just the right size
to build a dam—
water rises, over the edge
of Bad City Boy’s
manicured bank
onto his manicured lawn—
over the sidewalk
into his garage,
over his driveway,
onto the road.

The finishing touch comes
from the big rain—
his heartless home
where he lives all alone
perched on a soggy knoll,
his basement floods
to the top of the stairs.
“I’m a prisoner here,”
he cries as the water
seeps over his boots.

Mother Nature and Karma
have a non-refundable,
non-transferable agreement.
“We take care of our own.”

Gnaw on that,
Bad City Boy.
You shouldn’t have
come to the country.

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