Walking to the train this morn'
the air was clear and crisp,
as the gibbous moon and morning star
met in secret tryst.
The first golden glimmer of the dawn
broke upon the east,
as carrion crows perched by the road
waiting for their feast.
I walked along the river bank
reflecting sky and trees,
until the sound of broken glass
disturbed my reverie
and I thought to myself, sullenly
"We are a disease..."