"This sickness is not unto death" (John 11:4), and yet Lazarus died..."
The sky is a headache
and the wind a rash of clouds.
A fever burns in the sun
till its chattering teeth break.
Who will physic the moon
put it under the knife
cure this flea-bite plague of life
caught with no conscious intent
that infects the unprotected firmament?
Images: The Alpilles with Olive Trees in the Foreground, Old Man in Sorrow(On the Edge of Eternity) by Vincent Van Gogh
Public domain via wikipaintings. org