


Behind the Mourning Clouds
From behind the mourning clouds
The ancient moon peers down
Wearing a judge’s yellow crown
The moon knowingly frowns
Upon the maddening crowd
Congregating on opposite bluffs
Of the ever-widening Gulf
Between diamond cuffs and shoeshine buffs
The moon then proudly dons
The unworn sacred shroud
And judiciously ordains
“This is your final countdown”
Ivor Steven (c) February 2025


































