Sunshine Might Be Coming By

  
Sunshine Might Be Coming By

    

The skies are gray, with drizzling rain.

The cold that’s left will come again.

And that’s the bane of northern climes

That all must bear – though some complain.

Yet one, who lives in tropic lands

With palm-trees tall and coral sands,

Of summer’s sweltering heat complains

And cooler temperatures demands.

I wonder, whether there’s a clime

That’s cool enough in wintertime

And pleasant still in summers too.

So wondering, I might end my rhyme.

But I have learned there’s such a place

That’s suited to the human race,

Where seasons all are temperate –

As climates go, a shining ace.

I sometimes, in my dreams, ascend

To where it seems that spring won’t end,

Where in December flowers bloom,

On which the hummingbirds depend.

But that is there and I am here,

With drizzling rain – but spirit sere,

With winter’s cold about to surge,

And springtime’s blooming far from near.

So I can either sit and mope

Or with the gray and drizzling cope –

Of season’s cruelties complain

Or shrug – and for some sunshine hope.

On venturing in the rain, I spy

A patch of blue in the cloudy sky.

And so I smile.  I’ve learned to flow –

And sunshine might be coming by.

2013 December 23^rd, Mon. 
Brooklyn, New York

Two Peoples

    
Two Peoples
                                 
We humans are the same, it seems, wherever you may go,
Yet populations cleave in two – or three or even more.
For night and day may alternate, but solace is denied
To all but those who're fortunate, across the great divide.

And some may say, “That's balderdash!  They've risen through their wit,
By labor while the others slept, ascending bit by bit!”
Yet others claim the cleavage is not simply into two.
But since we are of simple mind, the two will have to do. 

******
             
Half the world has darkness, while the other half has light.
But most of us have misery and few have true delight.
Should happiness not spread itself, like sunlight at the dawn,
Should miseries not fade away, in the golden light of morn?

How strange it is that some see dark, where others see the light,
For humans seem identical to all but gifted sight.
With bodies and with minds alike and speech and feelings too,
Could conscience, strength or reason be what cleaves us into two?

“Alas!  It is a nightfall.” say the ones who suffer most,
“For even as the others, of their proud achievements, boast,
We're yielding to the darkness, and our lives are filled with pain.
And though we struggle hard to rise, we're beaten down again.

“Our days are spent in labor and our nights are spent in dread,
Our evenings in lamenting and in wishing we were dead.
And some of us have exited in ways that others fear,
And some are waiting listlessly, with exits drawing near.

“But others take their leisure in the comfort of a bed,
With joy at what's accomplished and with hopes for days ahead.
You can hear them as they're talking, while their children laugh and play.
They're planning their vacations that will start again in May.”

And those, who aren't beaten down, who've risen to the heights,
Proclaim, “There is a world to win, that's filled with sweet delights.
The human race advances – and the ones, who still complain,
Are lazy or are ignorant.  Their kind, we should disdain.

“We're chosen by divinity – or what you wish to call it.
And so we're truly different – as kangaroo from rabbit.
Where rabbits hop and stop and hop, we bound across with glee.
The difference, if you would look, is clear enough to see.

“We live our lives in gratitude for being what we are.
Whichever way we go, it's clear that we'll be going far.
We have no use for pessimists, they always are a drag.
They spend their time complaining.  That's the reason that they lag.”

And which of these describes aright the world that humans live in,
I will not try to tell you – but will leave for your decision.
It seems the world has peoples two – or even more than three,
And each can see a world that is unlike what others see.

Now could it be the world itself is really two, not one?
Or even three, as some have claimed – and surely not in fun?
I leave to you, to figure out complexities, but now,
It's time to sleep, for I'm in pain and suffering.  Ow-ow!

And if you think that's funny, you had better think again.
How shameless that you'd laugh at one, who really is in pain.
I'll be waiting till you've aged and then are whimpering.  I'll laugh!
But woe!  I'll long be gone by then.  You're grain, and I am chaff.

2013 August 29th, Thu. & 30th, Fri.
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn