These are the Times

Thirty-one days
to the months of the middle;

the longest & warmest
times of the year.

Thirty-one days
for the month we call August;

thirty-one days for July.

Both of these names,
for heroes forgotten;

mid-points in life,
mid-strife in career.

that calls into question,

the ‘Whys’ as ‘Why nots’

Mid-life, mid-strife;
a violent correction.

The eye of the needle,
unfit as unfair.

“These are the times,”
someone will mention,

that sets into question
the reasons we bear.

Thirty-one days,
heated & febrile;

thirty-one days,
will fall shy

of self-circumspection,
mid-life redirection;

“These are the times,”
that we question,

The ‘Whys’, oh Why!
Why must we die?

“These are the times,”
that we fear.

The sonic effects
affect what we hear;

ironic rejects
what tenets we share.

The eye of the needle
is not of the middle;

as August, July
is too, to mid-year.

“These are the times,”
which calls into question;

“These are the days”
we must bear,

for seasons in living
and reasons for dying;

as heroes, they too disappear.

©2016, Marvin Loyd Welborn
5 August 2016. Revised 30 August 2016.

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