Solstice Blues

'Twas the night before tomorrow And the morning after that. Father Time passed by discretely, Didn’t even tip his hat. The calendars of bygone years Stacked up to nothing much. The women I’d been cozy with Keep mostly out of touch. Can’t measure by semesters With a stale curriculum. Can’t reckon by elections And corrupt officialdom. The priests of possibilities Preach sermons on TV, And offer their salvation With extended warrantees. Shameless conmen hawking snake oil Rake in millions every year, With quarantines and lockdown On the omicron frontier. Tried to tip toe past temptation Couldn’t circumvent the booze. All those Christmas decorations Can’t disguise these solstice blues.