Sonnet for Sanity
Is it my turn for the remote control?
To pause the world to catch up, figure out
what is going on or at least patrol
the tumbling avalanche of white out
we call news these days. That data rich haze
of background static that leaches, preaches
in strident tones, the clothes to wear, the plays
to see, crowds the mind but never teaches.
Let’s unplug for a day, a month, a year.
Find a place of tranquillity and heat,
where running out of books is all we fear.
No clocks or calendars, just earth’s heartbeat
to regulate the hours, live in a blaze
of Monet sunsets, in our dying days.