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.
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