It’s uncanny. . .
How right has become wrong.
How whites don’t belong.
How living by rules
is only for fools.
It’s uncanny. . .
How believing in God
makes one rather odd.
How our nation’s flag
is a burnable rag.
It’s uncanny. . .
How telling the truth
is blatantly uncouth.
How taking His name in vain
is absent of shame.
It’s uncanny. . .
How statues of the great
are toppled with hate.
How the press
is unfailingly Left.
How being put behind bars
makes protestors stars.
How America’s founders
were racist bounders.
It’s uncanny. . .
How killing the unborn
has become a norm.
How breaking laws
produces standing applause.
How those in military attire
are mercilessly under fire.
How officers in blue
are targets of spit and spew.
Yes and alas, it’s uncanny. . .
how so much we have cherished
seems today to have perished.
Millennia ago it started as a rock
that was about the size of a fist.
It got swept to the edge lodging
against two mighty bounders.
Staying there for a century or two
it was finally small enough to escape.
Tumbling down the face of the fall
it landed at its shingle coated base.
For many years at least five hundred
it was tossed and rolled and polished.
Now the size and shape of an egg
it glistened and sparkled in sunlight.
Finally washed out it headed seaward
coming to rest on a sandy beach.
Where it was found and treasured
by a child who saw its magic and lore.
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