Monday, March 20, 2006

Anything But Equinoxious

Some vernal verse, courtesy of Robert Patrick, (seen below with the heart floating over his head).

The solar-lunar chasing game
Today makes day and night the same
Seven hundred twenty minutes
Which in most religious tenets
Is occasion for some ritual
Hootenannying habitual,
Honoring the daylight's lengthening,
And the soul's supposed strengthening.

Stars told farmers when to plant,
But it soon became a cant.
The agricultural adviser
Ever claiming to be wiser,
His constituents deceiving
That from gods he was receiving
Calculations astronomical,
Which no one considered comical.

By such devious device,
Each equinox and each solstice
Became occasions for soul-searching,
Shaming, blamng, burning, birching,
The seer mutated in each climate
Into shaman, rabbi, primate,
And the days acquired new monickers--
Easters, Ramadans, and Hanukahs.

Population these days swarms
In great cities, not on farms.
Holidays once spaced for growing
Go for drinking, buying, owing,
But among displays spectacular
(Here I sink to the vernacular),
Followers forever foolable
Slip the seers cash in-cal-cu-la-ble.


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