What is this blight we call bad news
But yet another thing to lose?
Our lists of losses have no end
A house, a job, a knee, a friend
Ash trees vanish, mothers die
No money’s left the food to buy
Our plans are chilled by arctic blast
We mourn the passing of the past
The fields are paved with roads and cars
We can no longer see the stars
Every day another ruin
Evil tidings make us stupid,
Anxious, fearful, worried sick
Even the dog’s beloved stick
Is left behind as we walk on
We know we too will soon be gone.
Yet.
The certainty of our demise
Is naught to fear, so please arise
“Resilience,” that modern smart
The ancients called a steadfast heart.
Lost stick forgotten, dogs keep going
New scents, new balls, new sticks for throwing
