Seasons of the Mind - IV
The booms and flash of light last night
made short his sleep beyond midnight.
His mind enslaved by old events.
Each one is known to cause lament.
What must one do besides shout out
a plea. "My God, forgive this lout."
Then comes the dawn. The rains have ceased
Again his mind released the beast.
The sun grows bright; the air smells fresh
once more, he thrives alive, afresh.
The day unfolds, his mind unspoiled.
His peace and calm seem quite well-oiled.
But now shadows grow long once more.
the weight of sleep brings on his snore,
Beneath clear skies returns those booms
A flash of war at night, his doom.
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