Wandering widely with no fixed home,
Roots too shallow to hold through storms,
Suck sustinance without them.

Drift with the tide or run with the wind,
Scatter remnants and pollinate in passing,
Leaving a footprint or impression but no more.

The approach of comfort heralds change,
Pushed to stretch and shift again,
Never quite able to really rest.

Pause for a while with what can be carried,
Settle in and carve a place called home,
A refuge from storms while it lasts.

Malice Toward None

Rancor and tumult – spices too strongly used
Rancid and putrid but liberally applied
Flavor discourse and inflame
Destroying the middle
Division and anger brandished with flair
Garnering headlines and attention
Pandering to basest of instincts
Enriching the masters

This giant of men though humanly flawed
Had hope for a more perfect future
He spoke of reconciliation 
He would not approve

We squander the promise he fought for
Many men's blood spilled for unity
We ignore their heartfelt pleas
We polarize and divide

Reconsider the dangerous course we have set
Speak with softness and listen much more
Seek to understand 
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