Sunday, April 29, 2007

Almost no one mistakes a bear for a rock


Whatever happened to the baby raccoon
mistaking the moon for her maker’s eye?

I lied: it wasn’t the moon either, just
a shiny lost satellite, neither hers nor mine.

“Wish I might” on that & all you end up w/
is another baby forced to grow up too soon.

You can’t fake love, wisdom, or a sneeze
& expect to please everyone. Curdled light

oozing in thru a broken window is like
an attenuated wind. Only visible.