Driftwood

All I found on the furthest shore
Was dust and decay from the last world war;
Tentacles touched my outer fears.
No alarms, no fog horn warnings,
No afternoons or Monday mornings,
No offertories or confetti cheers.

No football scores, no pundits,
Neither bandstands now nor trumpets,
Seal-skitters sentinel the ebbing bar.
At a skate park unveiled just last year
And from the playgrounds disappear
Sedge warblers’ stolen repertoire.

No sewing  buttons, no lines in the sand,
No comeuppance and no endocrine gland,
No daffodils in song and no Siberian Iris.
From a throne he instructed the shogunate
To construct a wall, and call it great,
And that way he would conquer a virus.

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