Micro-Moon

Very little media
For the most distant, smallest,
Last moon on this calendar.

There’s more to worry about,
More for words to talk about,
More for code to code down here,

Wars and the rumors of wars,
Mass displacements, rising seas,
The latest surge of plague waves.

Strange, frail old man in poor health
With no money and no prospects,
What do you have to tell us?

What’s done is done; what’s coming
Next you can’t see, except know
You won’t be here to see it.

Oh very helpful, thank you
Very much, you useless clod
Of light on the horizon.