Yes, a baby
Asks questions
By the act of pointing
Or making a quizzical
****** expression

What is this world
What is the world about

It is so easy to Imagine
A baby not knowing
It is easy to imagine
Not knowing because
Who knows

Not the best of us
Not the stargazers
Not the book readers
Nor the book writers

Especially not the politicians
Who never stop
To ask the question
Or to ask any questions

Their nature is to accumulate
While they pretend to lead
While they pretend to guide
Their nature is taking

Some pretend to tilt
toward compassion
Toward caring
Toward altruism

No longer a baby
One grizzled octogenarian
Ask no questions
Merely wonders

Where has all of the wonder gone
He wonders if altruism is real
And if it is, why is
It ******* by greed

Disarray surrounds him
In his antiquated
fourth-floor dwelling
Sheets of music, tablature,
Scrolls of data, reports of minimal finance
In stacks upon chairs, teeter
Precariously like arched boulders
Along Cumberland Ridge
Papers shuffle through his hands,
Which long for a keyboard
Where he shuns distractions,
Intent to share
what flows from his passion

I remember
parishioners entering
St. Luke’s enraptured by his piano hymns
As he praised his God

He formed his very own God,
One
of tolerance, love and compassion
He wished for approval
For his playing, his thoughts,
His longings and lusts

So different from those
Lining rows of mahogany pews.

I wonder if he is happy

In his heavenly spot

Where friends adorned
In colored shorts and flowery shirts

Play lyrics on golden strings

And parade their adoration to God.

Politics is broken
Something is missing

Politics is polarized
Opinions are divided
Clearly we are at extreme odds

Perhaps Vernon Jordan*
Had his finger on the pulse
Of this confounding
Movement years ago

The panel was distinguished
Vernon Jordan spoke  
“In Washington, there is no longer civility”

Elected officials representing opposing camps
Engage in animus and grudges
Without social civility

Without civility
There is no healing
Nor is there compromise

Its a calm September morning. The sky is cloudy gray. The sparrows are bustling in the hedge row. It just might rain all day. I've finished drinking all my coffee and I had a cookie that was infused. Potato salad 4 my breakfast and then I smoked a doob. Don't take me out to where the sun is. I'm feeling gray today. Soon my meds will kick in and the pain will go away. A busted big toe and an achy ankle, a knee that likes to moan. I have a vertebrae that's  collapsed. I can't go far from home. That's just the way it is these days, so I don't care if the skies are gray or if the sun won't be my friend. I'll smile and listen to the sparrows. I got Jesus at the end.