Cessation Poem by J.S. Moore

It is time.

The captive audience
Surrounds the stage:
Patient prisoners
Without a cage.

It is time

To go back to the bottom.
Good-bye to autumn

As the cool passing breeze
Sends children of trees
Marked by disease

In a flurry and hurry

To their inevitable ending
Gradually descending

Like lost searchers

Into unknown realms.
Winter’s wrath overwhelms
American Elms.

It is time

For immunity,
Equal opportunity -
And good-bye community.

Shall we go to the river -
Shed our skins with a shiver?
Frozen currents deliver

Us into the universal sleep -

With dreams so deep.
Let the willows weep.

It is time.


The captive audience
Surrounds the stage:
Patient prisoners
Without a cage.