As another week concludes, we end with a random poem. Famous poets, obscure poets, amateur poets, whatever poets--just a poem to cap off the week.
Like this one:
Daybreak, by Nancy Fotheringham Cato
The greatest show on Earth
(non stop twenty four hours around the world)
Begins with a curtain-rise
of soft pink cloud
and a blare of golden trumpets;
The Sun's rebirth
we have seen it all before
we don't even bother to get out of bed,
or, if we're up already, we take heed
only to see will it be fine today
for our trip to the shore,
or the mountains; will it rain
for the school picnic,
will the races go on
or the test match be postponed?
And yet, one day, if the
sun should not rise,
what a loud refrain
of despair and horror
would run,
circling the whole Earth
as each place found
that today the golden trumpets
would not sound,
and the show was over!
We should think of each day
as our last for seeing the sun.
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