Timing

It's bright and sunny outside,
but cold,
like some people I know.
Judy thinks she’s at war
but this army isn't interested,

we stare at a wrinkly scheme
until it shows its core.
It's a time of no new thinking,
life reduced to simple,
an old wheezing bull

under a 'crow' cap,
it’s time to leave
and I have the right of way.
A life is winding down,
the light goes out

and I am part of the dark,
and the only thing to show for it
is a gravestone in the woods.
It's hard to find sympathy
when you're looking for it,

no subtle messages
when a storm rolls in,
blowing dry snow,
cold wind's angry dance.
It's like putting up an outhouse

and expecting people to find it,
looking for passion
but there's only obscenity,
timing has a lot to do
with the outcome.