Spring 1960

Anyway there's smoke. Gray,
Mostly. Sometimes blue or black,
Depending of course on what's burning -
A leaf, a mountain, a country or a corpse!
Puff balls (silly things) make smoke without a fire
You've seen them - round, brown, and brittle -
The elderly metamorphosis of a mushroom,
Of which less said the better
Because of fission (you remember)
Spewing the final idiocy - and smoke.
Enough of it - had you noticed? -
Will bar the sun.