Hardness is the earth’s own lament,
refusal its punishment. See
how the small birds tremble
in drab grey-white, how they call
in small pebbled relay among halberd-
leaved tear-thumb, asters bordering
the ditch like fringed husks of stars—
Who would not be moved by their darting
and pleading, their search for a soft
place to burrow among the stones.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.