The cosmic forecast betokens calm,
physicists confident the universe
will neither freeze nor rip asunder.

Earth serenely sails the Milky Way,
unrocked by meteor or solar storm,
no supernova threatening near.

The polar ice caps cycle seasonally,
constant to their age-old habits,
harboring penguins, polar bears.

Between the separate nation states
comes peace, one handshake at a time,
atonements made, grievances forgiven.

Cityscapes lie lightly on the land,
harvesting sunrays and rainwater,
low rooftops canopied in green.

You sit beside me on a park bench,
and maybe we speak or maybe not,
footsore, watching a tardy bee.

Above us, in the dusk, an airship
hums soft whilst the hiveward bee
heads home laden with nectar.