seasons due

a final image lodged in the mind's eye
of what we know will soon become most rare
still deep inside each truly does not care
and wishes that the time would scurry by
without a fuss but such hopes go awry
and sordid secrets come to open air
while deepest coffers at last turn out bare
as the last maggots creep outside to die
the map provides no hint at final plan
nor is there indication of true place
just silent approbation by the guide
suggestion that we might ignore the ban
accept the new arrangement with good grace
and find a proper place for hope to bide

secret beneath stars

out of our desire to map and measure
a simple picture will not here suffice
our vision needs a more complex device

earth must yield its final hidden treasure
we'll cut into the surface slice by slice
our of our desire to map and measure

we do this now for more than mere pleasure
our drills will cut through marble and through gneiss
no need for older wisdom or advice
out of our desire to map and measure