Calamity Rising

Stage right, the devil waltzes to the angel’s lute on the left,

While the mortal balls up center stage, pestered through the day.

The degenerate’s but a parcel of the playwright’s teeming cast,

But every scapegoat shares the fear that this day will bring his end.

The director choreographs the audience, when to applaud and when to wail,

Unaware a storm is pending and the puppets will invade at dusk.

A hairbreadth from sundown, the watchman heeds the threat,

And until his tower falls, his dismal siren pervades the night.

The moon receives the call as the wolves coax it with their howls;

The sun neglects to interject, for it lost its mind that afternoon.

Forsaken lovers embrace as the clouds engulf the sky,

And as the terrain succumbs to shadow, their hearts quench the earth.

The fisherman awaits his catch several hours before the morn,

But his hook is caught six feet under and will never see the day.

And so the weeping willow casts its ferns upon the ground,

An homage for those who meet their fate before the sun can rise.