Are We or Are We Not Getting the Hell Out of Egypt?

Weird morning reminiscent
Of the Book of Exodus—

Lone pillar of cloud at dawn,
Then a large sundog burning,

Standing over the desert
Like a vertical rainbow

Leading into the mountains—
A forecast for wandering

For a very long time, for
Forty years and then dying

In sight of the Promised Land—
A hermit nearing sixty

Should welcome omens for time
To waste in the wilderness,

But aren’t these omens reversed?
The moonlit pillar of cloud

Rose in the night, then vanished.
The fire sign burned in the day.