Due for a Cataclysm

This time, I’d wager your currency is in decline.
As meadow gives way to minefield,
let’s open up a little.
It so happens that the lengthening nights
chip away at our dignity. Now,
we must return the favor.
A sharp breeze beats back
the fugue state which fastens
this scene together, festoons it
with little touches of surrealism.
We’re due for a cataclysm, aren’t we?
Sooner rather than later one hopes,
but there’s no fun in that.
Fun is all that we have left.

-r. miller

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