F.I.S.H.

Ten years ago I wrote all the protocols For an eventuality Not that far off From our reality It washed out The dark stains Like bleach on Granite countertop Cold and lifeless The city quiet Rustling of spring snow Green budding sprouts White cherry blossoms Under the cool evening skies Day 1

Stop

How to stop the world turning Long enough to catch our bearings Seems we’ve collectively Had a moment of discourse Will we reach across the divide And bring together Common sense With dignity and compassion Or will we see the unwrapped gift Of a sunset at noon?

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