The news right now is such a terrible bummer,
marching to the beat of a very bad drummer.
Let's break from prose for an Ode to Summer.
The rains of April have brought the flowers of May.
There, we found something nice to say,
though we wonder how long it will stay that way.
Climate change is coming after us all.
The winds they howl and the hail doth fall
while invasive species northwards do crawl.
Once Beatles with music did make their mark.
But now if you go to the woods or even a park,
the beetles are there to eat all the bark.
Yet summer vacation's still a fine tool,
public or private, parochial or shul,
to save our kids from being shot in school.
Tis a subject 'bout which all of us care,
thus this idea we are quite glad to share,
they can't be killed if they're not there!
How quick the fix, and how easily done,
while not one single person has to give up a gun.
That's how we make sure that summer stays fun.
Don't be a whiner, don't be a grump,
go out to the garden, pile dirt in a lump.
Anything to stop all this talking of Trump.
Does he make you feel besmirched and blighted?
Might he be impeached, or even indicted?
Is that what you need to be truly delighted?
Toke on your joint, take a sip of your booze,
get away from the TV, away from the news
it just keeps on playing the Pdiscordant blues.
Lay on the chaise that's built for reclining,
in the warmth of the sun as it is shining,
like a miner who basks in the return of strip mining.
Grill up some burgers, have a great feast,
ignore the long wars in the boring Mideast.
It's not up to us to have them policed.
The Iran deal is broken, dead, gone, and smashed.
The Ayatollah should have forked over some cash
to save Jared's business from turning to ash.
It worked for the Saudis and for the Russians
money in millions, not endless discussions,
to get 'round sanctions without repercussions.
It worked for China to save ZTE.
Chinese jobs saved by paying Trump's fee.
It won't work for you, it won't work for me.
We don't have millions to make Trump switch.
But for summer fun you need not be rich.
With just a fly and some string, you can go fish.
The seasons return and they don't really change
so please don't think it so weird and so strange,
they brought back John Bolton, known as deranged.
The CIA's head's just a sign of the times,
like a phoenix who rises out of sagas and rhymes,
who cares that she once committed war crimes.
They are beloved by those who have billions,
though some are clowns and others vaudevillians
slithering through the swamp for their own millions.
Rudi says Mueller will be done September
but all through the summer we must remember
the Truth Club revoked Rudi as member.
Go off to the mountains, or head for the beach,
away from the carping, the nagging, the screech.
Somewhere beyond your cell phone's reach.
If your state lets you, plant your own seed,
or go to the Rockies to have legal weed.
The pause that refreshes doesn't mean you concede.
Lilacs are fragrant and the roses still bloom.
Time to get out and away from your gloom,
get away from your office and your square room.
When the days are hot and the nights are cool
find a friend that you can toss in the pool,
take some time to play the personal fool.
Get away from the lies and things you despise.
Read, dream and study, meditate and grow wise,
come back in the fall, and then organize.
There are things in life beside politics.
Go get some kicks on Route 66.
In autumn come back for what must be fixed.
What can we hold, what can we defend?
We're stuck in a stairwell that only descends
a kind of nightmare that refuses to end.
The political world gets worse and worse—
vile, sad, harmful, did we make our own curse?
You know it must be bad when I turn to verse.
Let us not lament, or try to reason,
'bout high crimes, misdemeanors, and treason.
Here's an Ode to Summer. Enjoy the season.
