One sun rose on us today thanks to the efforts of
the job creators among us who didn’t wait
around for the government to raise the sun,
not like some who just want things
from the solar system. Who think the sun
rises by itself. Who don’t care
if it’s there for future generations of Americans.
From Mount Desert Island to La Jolla
and all the places in between where the
light glistens on the dew on the greens
of a million golf courses, where
the first foursomes are teeing up
and someone—I don’t recall his name at the moment—
is polishing Anne’s Cadillacs in the porte-cochere.
The sun rose and is making the trees grow to the right height
to shade the deck without dropping crap into the pool.
And if not, we’ll get the boy in to prune them.
The sun is rising and Americans are
waking up to responsibilities.
Checking their portfolios.
Consulting with clients.
Incorporating themselves.
Engaging in sport, if you will.
Greeting each other, saying,
Good morning, sir.
Dear Jerry, an especially juicy and lovely Inaugural Poem. Congratulations — especially since, thank goodness, MR wasn’t inaugurated! xo Alison
Spot on!