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The Coming…
(Mood Variations…)

		      
The long hot summer yields to the arrival
of the cooling fall.
Despite the coming treat to survival
towering trees proudly stand firm and tall.

Sticky, sweaty, steamy nights
have now all gone;
giving way to the cool ebony breeze.

Horny frogs and crickets
no longer sing their eerie song;
squirrels organize
their cupboards in the trees;
and ivory towers grow on
graves of fall’s fallen leaves.
		      
In the early evenings’ misty wine
sun of change set the close of day,
leaving hued shadows to sway
on the footprints of changing time.

The angels of the sky have flown far away;
leaving a strange peace to seek out another day
to find sanctuary in caverns of hope.
Seasoned lives prepare for what winter nature will send their way;
as echoes of rain mock the variations like a cruel joke.

Strange how nature’s circadian rhythms
bring about change: yet the more things change,
the more they stay in the same range.
No one saw the ambiguity of the coming strange schis

Dawn seemed to have struggled this morning---
     Returning from her nocturnal journey,
She slowly stretched, yawned, and arose
     To the appointed occasion 
Sending dim, golden rays piercing through
     Shades of lazy grey clouds

The whistling wind wails, whooshing through the trees
     And winding around corners
Bring awakening alarms that hands cannot stop
     Nor ears can ignore

The weight of sleep lifted; the window shades of dark orbs
     Open to the set time
Oblivious to the exact moment of designed closure, only
     Aware of the here and now;
Thanksgiving is offered for one more day of struggle:

To be free of the shackling mind games they play,
     We prepare to fight another day.                         

Only God could have made this chosen day
     We cherish 
To teach the children the liberating way
     That they not perish
In the ongoing struggle to be totally free
     Culturally, politically---
     And economically be.                           

Closing in on an all-time high, wars remain in vogue:
     Peace has been vetoed 
Military-industrial complexes are the nation’s money lode
     There is no other road. 
At the conference table, negotiations continue 
     To collect dust
And the compromise remains us.
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