Are We Truly Free from the Perils of This Earth? Ron AI

Comfort

Oh, to sleep well at night,

And be well fed.

Have enough cover,

Even have a bed.

To endure the desert heat,

Hot sand where you tread,

Parched throat and lips,

Inferno sun beating head.

Frigid cold wind blows,

Through cracks in walls,

One slip on the trail ice,

Thousand foot falls.

When a fog of mosquitoes,

Descends upon flesh,

ticks and the deer flies,

All seek blood fresh.

Lost at sea without bearings,

Drifting wind tossed waves.

Hoping for freshwater rain,

amid raw fish craves.

This planet we live on.

Is a perilous place.

It’s also very beautiful,

When perils are erased.

So when you settle in to enjoy,

Streaming movie, drink and snack,

Think of those with no food in their bellies,

Trying to sleep fitfully with what they lack.

Bare necessities taken for granted,

Could be gone in an instant, you see,

with the seeds of hate we planted,

Thinking we were eternally free.

Copyright 2025 Ronald W. Hull

5/29/25

You can read and print this poem here at my website.