Copyright © 2018 by Marvin Cohen

If you're about to have a picnic
with a blanket covering the grass,
and good friends to try enjoying themselves,
what if distant thunder is heard,
not to be mistaken for the chord of a bird?
You're under threat of a rained-on picnic,
directly contrary to your fun-loving mood.
Your friends are scattering away from the blanket,
not bothering to carry food and wine away.
Thousands of clouds are covering the sun,
which ran away just like your friends.
You're left alone to pick up the wet waste
while the eat contents of the blanket are reduced to paste.
Has your mood turned into angry thunder?
About such a reaction there's no need to wonder,
when such a lovingly planned picnic turns asunder.
But the raindrops now are getting more sparse
and belatedly the sun tries returning.
Too late. You've already been abandoned
by your scattered band of "loving" friends
whose unanimous betrayal you're left to brood on
and with nothing dry to put the destroyed food on.
The left-over bottles of wine
will help you and the returning sun
to escape misery by getting drunk
as the world turns aglow in swoon-like twilight.
You're left alone to brood your unpopularity, by dry night.
What can you do about your departed friends who took cowardly flight?
But the world reverberates with a semi-holy sight.
The day concludes its verdict with a partial blight.
But now the cosmos is shrunk to an uncanny height.