Sometimes you are the angel
Who saves the children from the flood.
When no one else has stayed awake
Your vigil keeps the living blood.
Sometimes the tree is high enough,
With branches strong enough to last;
But the young only venture dawns
If at night you help them hold fast.
It comes towards us, even as we kiss.
I'd hoped to keep you ignorant of this,
But when you took me on that winter trail
In that dancing wood, where the snow and sunlight fell,
Before such sad beauty, my tongue was bound to fail.
Underneath your crumpled hood
I started sadly, still, I started to tell--
That was when, miracle!, you slayed the fearful spell
Of what is coming even as we mortals kiss,
Whispering—forget all that, we were made for this.
“All essays have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Thus, all essays make you stupid." We know Aristotle said this several years ago, and only pretty recently did someone bother translating it into English, which was very thoughtful of them if you stop and think about it. And if we've learned anything from this statement as well as other statements by dead people written down and then translated by other dead people, we've learned how important it is to know why you’ve done something. So while you ponder that, strike a pose. Someone is always watching.
And so we go.
November comes, falls and flees,
Throwing colors at our feet.
They won't dance for me
But if asked, might show
Where they danced before
Whirling while I grieved
The years that I alone
Had need to bear and be
You left your necklace on the table.
I have no sight. I see.