A Sunday Morning

As I awake this Sunday morning.

All is quiet on every front

except for a didtant rooster

and the silent songs of stars.



I sit and listen to Roger Waters

and wonder why it is that humanity

insists on not performing miracles

but seeks only the might dollar.



I listen and watch winters leaves fall like

the gentle notes played on a baby piano.

Tinkling their sad ways to places I have

visited with every turning of the seasons.



And amusement at any cost no matter

how many lay dying for reasons preventable.

One person can make a difference today

but where is that person to be found?



We watch the pain on TV

Feel a twinge of sadness, yet

not quite enough to do something.

'Maybe I'll send a dollar'.



I take a walk amongst the almost leafless trees

which seem to say to me the things I think of others.

A sadness settles on my soul as I realize

I have not made a difference in a long time.