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Apr 2018
.
The sun pours upward into day
And the little cottages by the sea
Are smoking, sandy souls are turning
In their beds by the glaring windows
That hide the birds who were always
There singing, this is a new day, wake,
Wake into dream they are saying, play,
Scurry with wings into light, every branch
Is an avenue, each leave a communion,
Coffee and tea are soon brewing, tangled
In the chlorine mist of the ritual showers.
What to wear this self made, self same
Day?  Fingers tracing glass, new messages
Are frozen in light, so many things to do,
Undo, ****** into ones mobile devices,
Off to work and pressed into their mask,
Ready, makes of shuffles same to endure,
Eight hours or more later, the wounds
Of indifference, avoidance and deflection
Rear and hunch shoulder, weary as it
Trumps joy in a limp to shelter, soon
Too late to be home, and bathe
In the numbing light of situation
Comedy, tragedy, star seekers
Flail on the flat screens, that's
Entertainment, ready, sold,
Told for next new days slog,
And then, all must off to bed
Only to dream mercifully,
Again as dear sun is falling,
Wakes into lost horizons.
.
Seán Mac Falls
Written by
Seán Mac Falls  Éire
(Éire)   
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