seasons due

a final image lodged in the mind's eye
of what we know will soon become most rare
still deep inside each truly does not care
and wishes that the time would scurry by
without a fuss but such hopes go awry
and sordid secrets come to open air
while deepest coffers at last turn out bare
as the last maggots creep outside to die
the map provides no hint at final plan
nor is there indication of true place
just silent approbation by the guide
suggestion that we might ignore the ban
accept the new arrangement with good grace
and find a proper place for hope to bide