A Dismissive Class

To be a perpetual spectator

Reclining into judgmental boredom

As the nervous, bashful sun grows brighter

Seems an ugly squandering of freedom

Bald, but sure of your own, formal beauty

Impatient with the clean, blue horizon

Watching as the mountains do their duty

Propping life up until the painting’s done

Without thanks or appreciation

As the grass exhales what you need to breathe

Members of a voyeuristic nation

With critical scorn, you quietly seethe

When summer light brings you no real delight

Meeting the world, you should be more polite