Nov. 13th, 2013

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

all that we know is measured in degrees

of silence or of truth that we declare

not loudly but most firmly into air

that has been purified by these dark trees

standing impassive in the midday breeze

while we afflicted by most reasoned fear

are not so hopeful that we’ll choose to dare

go through the woods to face the heat or freeze

no options are so good are purest chance

but all our wishes end up just as vain

as when we started so we must endure

let other figures enter in the dance

hope for the sun but buck up under rain

and face each ill uncertain of the cure

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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