Front Porch Skeptic
Lovely afternoon.
Serene front porch repose,
Dusk coming soon.
Claims of truth tested, put to rest.
Vigilance drowses.
Welcome reprieve,
from smoke’s deception.
Truth, that is the question.
Mother Robin intrudes,
gathering worms in verdant grass.
Hungry mouths await,
Mother Robin persists.
How can this be?
It is half-past three.
Truth is certain,
The early bird gets the worm.
An enigma too profound,
Truth is certain.
Obsessed with promptness,
what am I to do?
Deny my mother’s plea?
“Don’t be late, you know,
The early bird gets the worm.”
If you delay, you will pay.
Truth is certain.
The early bird gets the worm.
How can this be?
It is half-past three.
There are worms at half-past three!
Mother Robin knows,
the worms reside,
in early morn’s light,
at noon day bright,
at half-past three,
and day’s last light.
She is not belated nor sedated.
Her call is clear, mouths to feed.
Truth is certain.
The early bird gets the worm,
in early morn’s light,
at noon day bright,
at half-past three,
and day’s last light.
Careless in God’s care,
Mother Robin is free.
Mother Robin to be.
She is not belated nor sedated.
What about me ?
Truth is certain.
The early bird gets the worm.
Shall I distain my Mother’s plea?
Alas, truth is certain.
Noon begets bare shelves,
No TP for me.
Can it be, Mother Robin
Is more valuable than me?
I think not.
Truth is certain.
GeorgeEzell