THE MORNING AFTER

The sun rose once again,

Ignoring the dark clouds

Lounging all over the white mountains

Like obese, loud-mouthed bullies in ill-fitting suits.

The Alps had seen it all before,

Knew the sun would dissolve the squatters

And their bad attitude

With a quick sparkle of golden truths.

And sure enough,

The losers skedaddled,

Leaving the white peaks to glisten

In the sunshine.

Meanwhile, outside my window,

A bevvy of birds celebrates yet another morning miracle

By skipping between split coconuts

Filled with the best things in life.