You, there! With the gifted glib tongue
Conservative, yet you walk among
Beasts of men with minds uncouth,
Who speak a lie, yet search for truth.
Strong, hateful, ungodly lot!
You choose, then toss your pickings
Out to rot. You say not!!!
Then I challenge you to love me!
The Transition Winter is drawing its last feeble breaths
Yet, a slushy, dirty-white refuse still remains
A blight to the eye, a bother to me, however,
Its disappearance will be a blessing
Welcomed by the new birth
Whose thirst it quenches.