The Milky Way Poem by Paul Reed

Saturday morning
Refreshed by the rain
The gulls wheel and whirl
The air swirls with a pallid face
And the world with its human race
Stands for a moment on this ball
Floating along;
As we peer out, blind-eyed, toward the Milky Way
Try to find why we are here
And are we near
To destruction;
This is the shortest day
We soak up the daylight
And bathe eyes and mind;
Who knows what we might find
As we look at the Milky Way
On this becalmed morning
On a Saturday.