Mother sweet is not this nature

it just is a romantic nomenclature

a scale above our human stature 

below the radar a tiny bug

bats us back a beastly slug

we scramble for a magic drug

hostel or home - culls vain preen

must muck in - our own mess clean

 few can beam  eremite serene

major scores politic in seventh key

but set right course - who can forsee?

to survivors left  a hollow victory