Songs I Sing. B. Germain Reynolds
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The errand
The event
The season.
Their pastime
Parading past prime
Applauding the brave
Watching
Time disappears
Into a long-ass day
Featuring
Panic
Anxiety
Accomplishment
Checked boxes
Merging and mingling
My sense of style
Somewhat traditional
Leery of the fad
Choosing the classic
Yielding to comfort
Going big
Opting for tiny
Making a statement
It’s just a thing
Not my truth;
Judge me
If you must
On the merits
Of my mantras
On the heat in my tone
At the outrage du jour
Sitting on the fence
Or standing for right
Or closing my mind
To another way
To skin the cat
To view the world
Walking the tightrope
Of an era
In history
When facts are fluid
And fiction is currency
Yesterday’s norms
Today’s modes
Compete for my grip
Against my heart
Across my body
Over my shoulder
Around my waist
Bouncing with each step
Secure on my person
Hiding my stuff
As I stride through life
Holding my peace
And so it goes.
Firesome
Where was the forest for the fire; wild
Smoke climbing up to heaven
Like the cries of the weary; black
Putrid, devoid of form
Spelling nothing, hiding life; thick
Clouding man’s vision
Leaving in its path
Waste
Wonder
Woe.
If the trees had refused to grow; tall
Their limbs reaching out
Heavy laden with fruit and flower; pretty
Ripe, bearing life in fragrant cups
Overflowing with the land’s milk and honey; sweet
Filling man’s eyes
Offering their goods
Rich
Real
Ransom.
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