Mixed Blessings

Spring showed up today!
Pollen, sun and crowded trails…
It’s nice anyway.


Before The Patriot Act

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Very little tonight about Paul Revere.
On the 18th of April in ’75–
Hardly a person now alive
Would believe–a new message meant somebody’s here!

I’m serious: There was no texting, no phone,
And no messaging apps. Only snail mail, alone,
Of the methods by which we communicate now
Was around. You would unhitch your horse from your plow
And go visit–in person!–the person to whom
You had something to say; if you couldn’t somehow
Find a way to convey yourself right to the room
They were standing in, maybe you’d hire a guy
To deliver your note (and bring back the reply).

It’s difficult now to begin comprehending
The depth of the darkness when evening was ending
And moonglow alone shone a thin film of light
On the places still waiting for Ben Franklin’s kite
And the spark that it struck to be fanned to a flame
That was more revolutionary than the one
That Revere (and the friend whom the poem won’t name
When it’s written years later) that night had begun.
An IM back then meant direct line of sight
And a max of two characters! LOL, right?
It’s okay, say I’m lame. I think history’s fun!

Verse 1040

The government did not exact
Its due this year; I had to act
To rectify the oversight.
I did, and I’ll sleep well tonight
In knowing each illegally-
Launched missile’s partly thanks to me;
That Pruitt’s entourage and travel,
Absent me, might all unravel;
That I’ve partially allayed
The bills that Dr. Carson paid
To decorate his office space.
I’m glad to know that I can face
My creditors clear-eyed and proud,
However poorly I’m endowed
With funds with which to honor their
Demands, because I’ve done my share
To fund our nation’s government!
Now, how’m I gonna pay my rent?