Endowed with so much
suffering, they should be / and that
they are so-the pain in the head
which applies to me
and the clouds low over
the horizon: soon it
will be dark
We love the brief night, for its
quick pa**ing, the relative ease as
we slide into comfort and
the trees grow and
grow. I can hear
every smallest growth
the expanse is grinding with it,
out in the flats beyond, down by
the sodium street lights, in the head:
pain, the hurt to these who are all
companions. Serenity
is their slender means.
There is not much time
left. I love them all, severally and in
the largest honour that there is.
Now and with the least hurt, this
is for you.