The bloody Sun
Seen through a veneer of cloud cover
Is not the sign of the End
A promise of a new day it holds
As the Earth onward rolls
And a ledger of work finished is kept
And projects left unfinished that will reopen
When the newborn Sun reappears
Upon the morn
The dust that settles is not the end of the tale
But the mere closing of a chapter or a paragraph
The dust will surely be kicked up again
And, yes, we can say when
Tomorrow