Nine iron

Eyes on the last days
the first of a few days,
a reprieve or reprise
it’s still a surprise
and we
have to believe
that what comes next
will be good.

I’d touch wood
but the Amazon’s
almost gone,
taken by loggers
who have flogged
off the future

touching plastic
isn’t the same and
I can’t swim anyway.

There will be a renewal
when nature spews out
the drivel
when new shoots push up
to the sky, but nearer to
the last day
I’d have to say
I won’t be around to see it.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.