happy this (17/3/24)

‘happy’ this day
and ‘happy’ that day
and ‘happy’ whatever day,
this hollowed-out word
far too often these days
sounds more and more absurd
being welded or hitched
or nailed or stitched
as it all too frequently is
to days of presumed significance
this emptied sentiment
more out of habit
is forced to inhabit
the small-talk  that we decant
like litter we fritter
its meaning away
as thought uncertain
of what else to say,
thrown like confetti
to hang on the air
for as long as it takes
to come down to earth
to be trampled
into the dirt,
‘happy’ this day
and ‘happy’ that day
and ‘happy’ whenever day
at a loss of what else to say
said while groping
around for its meaning
forcing a feeling
one may not be feeling,
spoken on impulse
and lacking a pulse
sometimes its lost
in the lingua-mulch.

© 2024 robert greig