Developers (Poetry)

Quite by chance we saw them come -
their unassuming, sly, approach,
dismounting from their comfy coach -
a funeral-black Mercedes.

From our glass-eyed window watched
them scan from all directions, point
(omnipotence in every joint)
a careless, god-like finger

measuring this wild expanse
with butcher-eyes that count live sheep
in terms of likely cuts of meat
and never hear them bleating.

Profit cataracts their sight -
unseen the scarlet poppy blows
and dies beneath the heels of those
advancing like intruders.

Anonymous in city clothes,
umbrellas cocked against the rain,
that brace of spies, together came
to view and reconnoitre,

plan more monolithic home,
sardined to honeycomb effects
by budget-minded architects
who have their private Edens

landscaped in suburbia -
secluded chalet bungalows
(called Shangri-La or Mon Repose)
with pool and double garage...

BUT

Perspectives echo salaries
and crammed upon some drawing board
(it's all the council will afford)
are beehives for the workers.

(Note: Originally published under the Name Jean M. Thomas)