Cheer For The Chief

I don't know, if this newly elected hope, has brass balls, or frozen...if he's fearless, or unconscious. He has clawed his way, to the center of the world. Now, he's there...surrounded by legions, treason's, liar's and bias ...a miasma, of sordid 'goings on'.

How can he trust anyone, with business? Did he know something, going in? Is there 'something', they haven't told us...the ranks of the 'fickle'y informed'? Is there anyone, without a doubt, as to...what's 'really' going on?

He must have a plan of his own. He wouldn't dare, not have one...for somewhere, along the line, when it all goes wobbly strange, and a furball's laying on the floor...like a 'rabbit foot' sign. He must have a plan, or, is he winging it, with 'Scottish cheek', and nothing under that?

If that man, is 'whistling in the dark' I pray...those mighty angels, will protect him there, throughout his time. His Secret Service 'bristles'. They will have to. They will have to use 'fey' eyes, they never had before, to guard 'this Gaelic son'...from a short tenure.

I think, we all stand watch, mayhap, our greatest watch...upon the ramparts there, to save the 'one fine thing'  that's come to us...in a long long dark. Our 'Camelot' was crushed, decades ago, our tower's fallen down, the whole world 'pushed around', by forces that we can't control...nor fully understand.

Now, here's 'a Chief'', to lead us, if he will...in a good way, taking ALL in hand, with all the 'secret doorways', to him, open in the land...naught, to really say him 'nay', but snowflakes falling down...that aimed to bring 'the silence, of forever, to a triumph...'fore, he ever changed a thing.

A lifted glass, a 'cheer' to you, Mr. President...a chance for the world, and 'the good old USA!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: Standing stones of Scotland, google pic