pernicious villanelle

I wonder when the shoe is going to drop—

metaphors and footwear stores upending

a fear that later life has got to stop

will never heed a friendly traffic cop,

even out of sight, in wood trails’ wending.

I wonder when the shoe is going to drop.

And what propitiates this agitprop?

Who’s behind this nothing-so-offending

that fear for later life has got to stop?

I’m all for crows that sabotage the crop,

farmers, too, for all their scare-pretending;

I wonder when the shoe is going to drop

and harvests as we hope them gigaflop,

Dobermans elope instead of fending

fears for later life, pens that have to stop.

Answers almost never come from Aesop

(all respect for Attic truth transcending).

Why wonder when the shoe is going to drop?

This fear for later life has got to stop.