In the Precedent of 2020
by Michael Doyle

There is something set
Quietly there in the precedent
An unlikely principle we forget
That we'd not be without accident

Who it is that we are today
I hope that's not too flippant to say
That despite our efforts to the contrary
We can do little about the necessary

Acceptance of life's unpredictability
That pops up time and again with intimacy
The tried patience of a saint knows familiarity
In the obsessive order found so contemporary

Within a world otherwise completely out of order
There at the sheer edge of sanity's very border
Enforced isolation has us window shopping in reverse
To afraid of contagion to dare to simply converse

There in this beautiful fantastic detail
We find noisiness as we hold very still
Wishing for answers we're unsure we'll find
Caught up in the tired and tawdry of our minds

Pan flute notes scatter on the wind
As notes in bottles we're afraid to send
Storms come and go causing us to tremble
All for the sake of teaching us not to crumble

It's just another itch, we've yet to scratch
As we reach out to define our family tree's branch
Hoping not to cherry pick our own reality
We'll pledge to one another the madness of fealty

Popping the pills that doctors swear will heal
But with heads in books, they can't conceal
That what is wrong with the world is beyond cure
Though we dare not whisper this as it's too impure

Perhaps it is true that a little tea and sympathy
Find their way to straighten every tragedy
May these then be the ingredients to let in light
Because in the end, we need to find our way to right

(c) December 13, 2020  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved