There is no obstacle but circumstance
Protects my growing daughter from the storm
That twists around the spinning globe because
The globe is spinning. Every disaster
Of weather derives from Earth’s regular
Periodicity. I watch the haze
Back up over the valley of Salt Lake,
The way custom and ceremony drowse
Until clouds of beauty and innocence
Grow dark and heavy and break. Who can breathe
Knowing how the ritual and routine
Combine to clog and then convulse the mind?
Our only hope on an unfair planet
Is that misfortune’s confusion skips us
And the unfair lottery favors us.
No comments:
Post a Comment