oppresive day

what lies the light tells anyone may see
a golden dust lies lightly on the green
a noble sight that far too few have seen
from which disaster most of us would flee
too much the filthy air for each grey tree
dull seems the day although the eye is keen
we do not know what any symbols mean
and have not learned a thing at mother's knee
we are disturbed by brassy weight of sky
and do not understand the message sent
nor who the sender or receiver are
we wait for endless worlds to pass us by
the strongest back under the air is bent
and does not get the signal from the star