I hate this time of year...
The brilliant blue
Screenwash skies
Melt away the winter mornings
Like de-icer
On windshields
I much prefer
The shadows
And the homely howling gales
Of wintertime...
They're welcoming
Like warm mulled wine
In springtime
Earth's gravity is a little heavier on the bones
The sun's a little brighter
A stark reminder
That I've survived another cycle
I start to ponder...
How will the future dominant race
Of this planet survive the winter?
Will the moisture crawl in their crevices
And expand?
Will it seep into their pupils
And crack them open
Like potholes in the road?
Will the winter mornings
Play havoc with their fuel cells?
Crude corroded crocodile clips
Hanging loosely
From nipple to nipple
Giving each other jump starts...
I wonder if they can feel
The changing of the seasons
In their steel frames
Will they feel the seismic shift
Deep in their sumps
As spring claims victory
Over the winter months?
Will the summer scent of two-stroke
Be alluring to their alloys?
Hmmm...
My mind does wander sometimes
-
Author:
Syd (
Online) - Published: March 24th, 2026 07:28
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 3
Online)
Comments2
Excellent work.
Thank you so much Thomas.
I very much appreciated your kind words.
- Syd 🍄
A most interesting thought yes machines will one day become conscious and the question is will they feel. A good write
Thank you Sorenbarret, I think this will happen quite soon the way technology is changing.
- Syd 🍄
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.