Spring. Same plants, same order.
Monday morning, open for business.
Tractor-trailers, day care centers.
Every leaf that's coming out is out.
To tonight's town meeting I will go unprepared and foolish.
It's delicious, the unimportance of my feelings.
Even our particular war is small.
Europe had one last a century.
Hubble photos of events 13 billion years ago
Do not put me in mind of the species' insignificance.
Just the opposite having witnessed the universe's birth.
But birth from what preceding state? God again rears his hoary head.
Nelson Riddle's arrangement for Frank Sinatra's
I've Got You Under My Skin. When the trombone
Breaks away from the orchestra
Like an elephant in love.
They say one must let go and will let go,
That God will decide what tragedy you need.
Not every seed becomes a flower,
Not every branch breaks out like Edward Taylor's.
The November moth's the fall cankerworm–Alsophilia pometaria–
Slender-bodied, beige, beginning life as the well known inchworm.
How to accept that this could be my last spring.
Or does the body still know spring when it's put to rest?
Copyright 2007 by Robert Ronnow.