Hold catches charity chastising morning
Forenoon sees sanctity assigning shame,
But no one caught evening whispering secrets
For that was midnight who shouldered the blame.
Shall she wear criticisms chill of morning?
Is she entitled as spokesman of throng?
Savouring rumours that snicker from new light
Or roaring, pedantically, dark dawns song.
Such is the chorusing catcall of caution
Such the disharmony ebbing from soul
Coughing suspicions embedded in discord
Entrusting it all to a miscreant’s fold.

M.
30 March 2020