Season Bright? (a poem)

The election is on the offense.

The fascination is awfully intense.

With rumor rife,

Amid real strife,

Implications it seems are immense.


I’d really like to not look.

I’d rather read an absorbing book,

But like a moth to flame

I can’t resist the game.

I’m a sucker fish caught on a hook.


“Why do I bother?” I natter.

Nothing I do will matter.

The overweening

Drive-Bys are preening

Their feathers with nary a tatter.


But whenever the excitement’s kaput,

Suddenly the game’s afoot!

On rumor we’ll sup.

Our antennae are up,

Our stars again covered in soot.


Hollywood could never hope to invent

A movie with such enthrallment rent.


Mimi Evans Winship

The election is on the offense.

The fascination is awfully intense.

With rumor rife,

Amid real strife,

Implications it seems are immense.


I’d really like to not look.

I’d rather read an absorbing book,

But like a moth to flame

I can’t resist the game.

I’m a sucker fish caught on a hook.


“Why do I bother?” I natter.

Nothing I do will matter.

The overweening

Drive-Bys are preening

Their feathers with nary a tatter.


But whenever the excitement’s kaput,

Suddenly the game’s afoot!

On rumor we’ll sup.

Our antennae are up,

Our stars again covered in soot.


Hollywood could never hope to invent

A movie with such enthrallment rent.


Mimi Evans Winship