November 22, 2012 - 7:58 pm
The autumn harvest festivals, alas, are obsolete—
For living in the city, we don’t grow the foods we eat;
No evidence of seasonal change is there to be found,
When supermarkets stock the same foods all the year around.
And little of the seasons’ passing show is evident
From leafless trees in iron grates embedded in cement.
But though the beat of life has changed, it cannot obviate
The need to mark time’s passage, or the urge to celebrate.
And if through stone and asphalt nature’s changes scarcely show
We’ll greet each one consistent with the urban life we know ,
And gorge ourselves on turkey, mashed potatoes, and ice cream,
To give thanks for that wondrous day the landlord sends up steam.
Very well done indeed, Buzz – although in most cases its been decades since Landlords took over control of the steam, the sentiment is still true; many of us are still in the position of waiting for forces beyond our control to provide heat.
Well, other than the Democrats and the Democratic Black Caucus in particular. Could we just, someway, corral the heat they emit with distressing regularity (which would not be missed in Washington)for good purpose?
I’d certainly give thanks for that to happen!
“… waiting for forces beyond our control to provide heat”
I always thought you were single, but here you are making a reference to wives.
/
Excellent, Buzz.
——————–
“… that wondrous day the landlord sends up steam.”
While the rest of the year, his missives are about you piping down.