901

Even though I'm on the early train

It's well past dawn so no sign of the fox

Or vixen to cheer me, just the same

Commuters, whose sour faces mock

Spring's imminence... but that was yesterday

And those few lines were all I'd time to write

Before the fog  of routine seeped its way

Into my mind and subdued all that might

Have served to make this poem worth your time

Rather than another morbid rant

Against a world where work is made the prime

Consideration, and art is naught but Kant.

          How easy it would be if we could live,

          Without the need to earn, and freely give.

Brian Hick February 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 22.2.23