Milieu

Old refuge midnight is where peace is kept
And social distance is a happy fate
For those of us who have with daylight slept
Only to wake when comets punctuate
The doomsday skies of stars and meteors
Which are just as clear as they ever are
When they convey antipodean spores
As villainous as old cigarette tar.
Miss you now the sweet skies of yesteryear?
Think on the buoyance of cottonwood fluff
Via vernal updraft of atmosphere
Which was never more or less than enough
For the inspiration of every smell
Be it from heaven...or be it from hell.