Failing to Idle

In motion contrapuntal

The dregs of a day's end are

Washed down with a pint or two,

This day when night's sway increases.


Worries in parentheses

Ghettos of forgetfulness

I am spectator to life external,

Briefly then I must return


To the straightening of circles,

Embodiment of abstracts.

To add if others, nebulous, permit:

A few more digits to the statement.


I drift it seems, evidently

Ill prepared for the task at hand:

To steal an hour of calm

From time's empty larder.


What's to learn from experiments,

Gone awry regarding evidence ?

Repose is too romantic to forsake,

Though pinwheels prove to be windmills.


That bastard need is a lover

I say, of fortune and her humors.

Court as we will, we hope at most

That she lets us cop a feel.

©2012 - C Ewen Mac Millan