Shall we be
as we have always been
the great unwashed
the unseen?

The world may change
but we shall have seen her in all of
her glory
or
maybe that is the story we tell ourselves
as erosion bites and the nights last longer.

But we're as lean as lamposts
and as fit as fiddles
except for the  coughing and the
fat that spreads around our middles.

I live with the thought that we are
what we've bought.

I'm not ready to buy the farm just yet.