What can be more deceptive
than this October sun?
It promises new beginnings.
Old men dipping biscuits
in weak tea, smile
to reveal missing teeth,
as they turn from dying leaves,
falling from denuded trees.
They don’t think of what’s to come.
They think only of the sun,
of things not yet done.
But when I laugh at them,
my laugh is hollow.
I, of course, am one of them.
– after Lu Yu
George Freek, USA
The Social Poet 