When the News comes on
and they stare with bunny rabbit eyes
at the world falling apart
I dare them to run
right into the fire
Have they not entered already?
Have they not felt the burn-
-the melting of skin under shallow words of woe?
When they say that word
the one starting with a ‘T’
I sigh and make myself a cup of Tea
and I wade into the morning sun
soaking up the unburdened air
A morning without words to pave the way
One that does not promise a woeful day