Whither the Mueller Report?

An Exploration in Rhyme…

MuellerBarrcartoon

 

Bill-Barr used unusual gauges
to file the 400-plus pages:
“I’ve made up my mind
There’s nothing to find,
So you’ll see that drivel in stages.”

The people were rather irate
They felt that a lot was at stake.
“If no wrong has been done
And the Trumper has won,
There’s no reason to play with our fate.”

“Let’s see the report as was written
Right now would be timely and fitting.
Place no holds on the facts,
Just forgo the redacts,
We paid for this not to be hidden.”

But Bill-Barr was cranky and dreading
That his reputation was shredding
“My 19-page audition
Said this prez has a mission,
So where did you think I’d be heading?”

And suddenly those with tight lips,
Who’d been wary of not sinking ships
Said “Good grief! Our worst fears
of two long, wasted years
Demand that we now give some tips.”

So the free press arose to report
About several probers’ exhort:
Barr had woven a story
That was really quite hoary,
With the truth it did not quite comport.

And now we’re all in waiting mode,
As Congress takes on this new load
Watch for the subpoenas,
While Fox’s hyenas,
Insist it’s conspiracy code.

But the polls show that most of us feel,
That this onion must finally be peeled.
If it isn’t collusion,
There’s still lots of confusion,
And high time the Whole Truth is revealed!

*****

What do YOU think?

As always, I greatly value your thoughts, opinions, and stories in the comment box below—as well as your feedback in the form of stars (from the one on the left for “awful” to the one on the right for “excellent”) and the “likes” from WordPress folks.  Thanks so much.

Annie

PS: A note to potential respondents: You’ll see a few early exchanges in rhyme. These are not prerequisites: I value your comments in whatever mode you choose. (Don’t want to discourage anyone who’s averse to verse!) Please also keep in mind that although this topic arouses strong emotions in me and most of you, we do want to remain as civil as possible. Thanks again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thoughts Engendered by Pajamas With Feet

NOTE: Gazing at a lovely picture of a friend’s daughter with her two kids–a newborn and a toddler–I found myself advising her, in full cliche: “Enjoy every minute of this time; it goes so fast!” 

That made me wistful about my own daughters’ younger years. Even though I realized then the flight of time, it still slipped past me far too quickly. 

So I dug out a poem I wrote decades ago, which was published in a local anthology. Here ’tis:

We cleaned out the closets yesterday,
Disposing of the children’s Infancy
   and Toddlerhood
in just a few, brief hours.

We stacked the memories in cardboard boxes
and placed them in the basement,
Where they will remain until my charitable 
   heart,
Massaged by the Internal Revenue Service,
Calls the Salvation Army to
take them away.

There went the Winnie-the-Pooh shirt,
Gently folded by the thin ten-year-old
Whose face is hidden now behind a
  thicket of heavy curls,
Like a small cottage attacked by overgrown shrubbery.
“How tiny it is,” she smiles.
How tiny she was, I remember, seeing her again
As she was then, the nicely shaped head
   covered
With thousands of tight little ringlets 
She let me cut at will.

I tried to wring those early years
of all I could,
Taking to heart the wistful warning from those
Who’d already passed this way that
“You’ll never know where the years went.” 

But
Here’s the evidence of my failure, the
Footed pajamas worn first by one daughter,
Then by the other.

In the accordion of my memory, the years are
   pleated 
Close together, almost superimposed
one on the other. I see
The girls, leaning back against their pillows,
Fragile arms folded behind their heads with 
Comical sophistication, as they listen
To a story they both treasured and selected
bedtime after bedtime.
“Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises
everywhere.”

I recite the words from memory now. My six-year-old,
Deciding which books she is ready to surrender to a
Younger child, replaces GOODNIGHT MOON
On the shelf.  I am grateful to her
For allowing us to retain our shared memory just
a little longer.

Next time, I know, GOODNIGHT MOON will go the way 
Of the footed pajamas and the Winnie-the-Pooh shirt.
Another book, which she now reads to me, will mark
these years for us.  My daughters will grow
Less attached to their childhood memories, 
As I grow more so.

I am too young to be living in the past, I think,
But still, in what I know is a gesture more to myself
Than to the future, when the time comes to dispose
of GOODNIGHT MOON,
I shall pack it in the special box, the one set apart
   from 
The goods for the Salvation Army.

There it will join the hand-knit garments woven
With love by aunts and grandmothers intent on
Warming my daughters with their 
crocheted caresses.

And I shall hope that the mildew of indifference
Spares it
For the next generation.


I hope this poem resonates somewhat, and I’d love to hear your thoughts and stories. WordPress people, if you like it, please remember to click on Like. Cheers!

Annie