Early Morning Quiet

image borrowed from bing

Early Morning Quiet

Still autumn morning, no warning
Of winter’s coming. The swelling
Light thrumming through the trees
Gives me pause to implore
of you these queries, though they might
prove wearying, ere the end:

How will you spend this day?
Will you acknowledge what is:
A world turning over glowing coals,
Slowly burning on its spit?
A pit of despair for so many…
A mortal sphere on which any and all
Are doomed to fall as surely as ash
And rubble? Or can it be your bubble
Has not yet burst, that you do not feel
The thirst? “Do you fear death?”
Does its foul breath make you run
And hide inside, where you hoard,
Good Lord, as if it will make
A difference…as if you can take any
Of this with you? What will you do
When the end comes? No pile of petty
Cash, much less a Swiss stash, can slow
The reaper…no, that old creeper
Will collect his due…including
You and me. But, you see there is another
Way to start each day: rather than spend
Your energy as if this is the end, please
Consider that it may be a new beginning…
Do not sing of final nights, with darkness
Falling, but one long day, and this
Be our morning, “quite early morning!”

Besides, should the zombie apocalypse
Arrive, swept along on ghoulish tides,
This gimpy, lumpy, grumpy Puck
Will surely be a dead, dead duck.

Lemuel Crouse

aka:Carolina Linthead

Posted over on his site Child of a Frosty Morning
Listed as #12 over on Magpie Tales 87