12,671. PEWTER SUN IN A SILVER SKY

PEWTER SUN IN 

A SILVER SKY

I've been working this idea all night;

but cannot decide a thing. Perhaps it's

better as 'silver sun in a pewter sky.'

But like the Pope said, 'Who am I,

to judge?' Well, that's OK for him

I guess (problematically, actually,

since judging is the whole reason

he's there).

-

I never understand how individuals

get themselves so far off the track.

Hedging the speed for the upcoming

curve obvious to all, that's the easiest

thing in the world. Or should be.

-

My Nature has no better angels.

I weed the killers from their deadly

fields and pick through the pockets

of the dead lying about : Torn and

battered; men and boys with the

enflamed eyes of death. Infested

by maggots just a few days later,

I watch them, and think what

I've missed.

-

Fields of carnage, like a Civil War

litter; infested by rodents? Nasty.

And bitter.