The weather is murky,
it offers a way out of the torment
by reminding me there is a young poet
somewhere relating important days in
my life with their own.
What appears to me now appears to be gone.
With fondness and respect we are intent
on that golden glum look.
There are 101 versions of "yes" that materialize
every morning. We call it "hunting management."
Where there used to be woods
there are now bears, Snickers, and the Metro North.
The final plan leads to a sort of capture.
We should all get together and develop a sense
of concrete action. Elegant protest? How?
Love is reason enough to get out of bed
in the morning. So, so much.