#12 January’s Journey: Father and Son Returns Prelude
Perspective Prelude
In 2020, when Covid-19 began to leach
Sanity and courage,
And science failed to reach,
The fearful and discouraged,
Son’s remote learning and online sessions
Led to lassitude and many missed lessons.
Mom and he, and a million others in stampede,
That prophecies propelled at frightful speed
To southern reaches, and open schooling,
Warmer beaches and again more carpooling.
The Age of Enlightenment was left behind, and rationality into the dustbin was consigned,
True seekers of truth preferred any kind of conspiracy that through divination only they could find.
The Founding Fathers succored on the Age of Reason
Would not recognize their heirs’ mad season.
This Father and his heir, and Son
Will now down this country run.
A confluence of withheld reasons
Compels a journey in this wintry season.
The time is now, whilst in Father’s company,
For Son to become prologue to their mutual destiny.
While the Age of Sturm und Drang compels an ending tragic,
Father seeks an epilogue to make their meandering epic.
For now, auf Wiedersehen!
That is, until they meet again,
And happily, they see,
That each is in the other’s
Private history.
Sanity and courage,
And science failed to reach,
The fearful and discouraged,
Son’s remote learning and online sessions
Led to lassitude and many missed lessons.
Mom and he, and a million others in stampede,
That prophecies propelled at frightful speed
To southern reaches, and open schooling,
Warmer beaches and again more carpooling.
The Age of Enlightenment was left behind, and rationality into the dustbin was consigned,
True seekers of truth preferred any kind of conspiracy that through divination only they could find.
The Founding Fathers succored on the Age of Reason
Would not recognize their heirs’ mad season.
This Father and his heir, and Son
Will now down this country run.
A confluence of withheld reasons
Compels a journey in this wintry season.
The time is now, whilst in Father’s company,
For Son to become prologue to their mutual destiny.
While the Age of Sturm und Drang compels an ending tragic,
Father seeks an epilogue to make their meandering epic.
For now, auf Wiedersehen!
That is, until they meet again,
And happily, they see,
That each is in the other’s
Private history.
1. Fraternal Farewell
2. Perpetual Preparation
3. Duo’s Departure: Son to Sun
The youngest son to his sunny home at last returning,
Along America’s interstates he and father will soon be journeying.
Alert! Winter storm Indigo is bearing down,
Hurry the final prep, they must leave town.
But the interstates are not for them alone,
Other taxpayers will also be hurrying home.
Forsooth! Before they are barely rolling
The queues of cars begin slowing.
Like ice floes choking a river swollen
First responders surround a driver stricken.
Down in mangled steel, reflecting lights yellow white and red,
Freezing the faces of those gawking for the dead.
As if creeping past an open casket, thoughtful glances are exchanged,
At the scene yellow tape, and orange cones, are mournfully arranged.
The surface tension is finally breached,
As the macabre point is reached
Where they gazed.
And four lanes finally lose their unease,
Vaulting to the velocity they please
Those mesmerized are now unfazed.
Son’s proud pick up in procession, defies death with its combustion,
Consumes petrol for growing power,
Climbs from ten to twenty, forty, fifty, sixty then to seventy miles per hour.
Farewell!
Along America’s interstates he and father will soon be journeying.
Alert! Winter storm Indigo is bearing down,
Hurry the final prep, they must leave town.
But the interstates are not for them alone,
Other taxpayers will also be hurrying home.
Forsooth! Before they are barely rolling
The queues of cars begin slowing.
Like ice floes choking a river swollen
First responders surround a driver stricken.
Down in mangled steel, reflecting lights yellow white and red,
Freezing the faces of those gawking for the dead.
As if creeping past an open casket, thoughtful glances are exchanged,
At the scene yellow tape, and orange cones, are mournfully arranged.
The surface tension is finally breached,
As the macabre point is reached
Where they gazed.
And four lanes finally lose their unease,
Vaulting to the velocity they please
Those mesmerized are now unfazed.
Son’s proud pick up in procession, defies death with its combustion,
Consumes petrol for growing power,
Climbs from ten to twenty, forty, fifty, sixty then to seventy miles per hour.
Farewell!
4. Illinois
5. Missouri
6. Arkansas
7. Mississippi
8. Alabama
9. Florida
10. Terminal Time: Return of the Father
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