Axiom of axioms: the circle of life.
    Not that anything’s wrong with it.

    The cherry tree falls in a winter storm,
    by thaw, wee wrigglers wriggle out

    of their crannies and bask culinary
    charm to tap-tapping peckers busy

    now before all these victual hide
    in foliage that live forever. Till fall.

    In the darkness of the porch man’s
    soul, he rues how extremely cruel

    it must seem to consume breast milk
    whose absence let’s her thyroid grow.

    It is the manner of the Master: Deny
    yourself. One exists, but for the other

    who will soon want your coal, oil, tar,
    for their ducats, and soon all your water.

    Quid pro quo? No. No quid, no quo.
    Undo all that: Who wins a war gets all.

    The winner takes all. Under a mackerel
    sky, some fire has burned a loser hoarder.

    In a thawed earth, the winter takes it all.
    Axiom: someone’s got to die for us all.

    — Albert B. Casuga

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