The
crow never gives flight a second thought
as
the field mouse carries the grain away without
suffering
and pain. The baby is coochie-cooed
to
illicit a smile. This may be the day you decide
to
delight the neighbors with that pumpkin pie
you’ve
thought of baking. Get over it, there’s no
convincing
Caesar to turn around; the Rubicon
was
crossed centuries ago. And yesterday has
long
since been relegated to the trash-heap of
history.
Why on Earth should I even bother to
write
a poem which begins with a crow and a
mouse?
Because when I sat down to write this
morning,
those images were the first which
randomly
came to mind. Likewise, you may
decide
that apple pie would be preferred over
pumpkin.
The die was cast for old Julius long
ago.
You and I are still alive and left here to
decide.
I for one prefer apple over pumpkin.
And
you’re not the one writing this poem. So
go
ahead, do as you wish, and leave me be.
Perhaps
we can both agree, doesn’t tickling a
baby
seems like a damn good and amusing idea?
And
too, I find that a historical reference helps
to
add some perspective. But pie?...
Chris
Hanch 11-27-17
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