Four images and a poem: that’s what Mike Foldes just sent us, and here they are!
A Poem Written the Morning After
A Day Revisiting Another Century
A remarkable agglomeration
In the old friends’ garden,
A twisting of honesty
And commitment
To a lifestyle setting them apart
Fom the masses for whom
Nothing is enough,
The drive-bys speeding forcefully.
A great beyond
Where flags are, themselves,
An insult to intelligence
A desecration of observance.
Once there was separation
Of church and state,
Some would say
“it is written.” But…
It was not, and so they
Struggle to make the turn
In the road back to sanity.
We see them bivouaced,
Roadside,
Comfortably attired in
Alien belongings.
The colors of separation
Set them uncomfortably apart
Under a unilateral sun
That allows multilateral blades
To grow a private universe.
Pigs In the pen, skin
In the game.
A peculiar magic keeps time
For an impartial commerce.
Undertake traditional trades.
Maintain an unsuitable temperament.
The old hands stand on lily pads.
Thank the frogs for a lack of excess.
Remember marching arm in arm,
Hand in hand, Face to face,
End to end, to stand tall
In the victory garden.
Stir in grace with passion,
Bestow apologies gallantly.
