Terrible change has come, whatever Bright:
The sky is filled with haze of broken storms;
The garden is decayed and crawls with worms;
Apples under lock and key, out of sight.
Are we yet human who witness the scene?
Of obscure black writ in shallow graves?
The light of reason shines from eyes of slaves;
The New Age sacrificed to might-have-been.
He squints at the Morning Star in grey morn,
From his smoky apartment window down the block;
Opens a drawer to pull out mismatched socks,
Already filled with rips and over-worn.
Slowly through the garden creep pale fungi,
Among the maple-roots of you, and I.
__________
Copyright 2022 Jeffrey Merk
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