Making adjustments

With every passing moment

things begin to sag

gloom and doom descending

tongues and fingers wag.

The ‘trouble with normal

is it always gets worse’:¹

the accepted language of the day

was once considered curse.

If don’t adjust the volume

the voices get too low

and if I don’t put glasses on

I cannot see the show.

But I won’t accept the norm

if it goes from grey to black

though I can’t prevent tomorrow,

can’t turn ‘progress’ back.

But I can govern my perception

and how I view those things

that are changed with votes.

I can sometimes turn the peg

so the tension in the string

produces crisper notes.

^{note 1} A Bruce Cockburn song lyric.