(I wrote this one as an extension of the impulse in the last blog post)
When I was a child I asked my dad
Why newspeople were ranting mad
About good times in the economy
The best we'd ever had
What was it there in times just now
That made us call them good
Who was in charge of times and how
These times be understood
Or did it matter after all
Since everyone was fine
If ease was really borrowed
If joy was really mine
And then one day the news were out
The good was there no more
But bad instead and maybe
Even darker than before
I wondered where this bad came from
And where the good could be
I wondered what those people saw
That I just couldn't see
I opened up my window then
To see just what had changed
From then to now from good to bad
How things were rearranged
I felt the smell of early spring
Of melting snow on grass
I saw the neighbors waving hands
And laughing through the glass
I saw the maples and the pines
Just like the year before
And I could see at least as many
swallows, maybe more
If nothing else they must have missed
Those flowers that the sun had kissed
How they were growing gracefully
They sure looked good to me
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