Little Enough


We say. When it should have been more.
Infinitely more. A bruised heart held
a skinned knee comforted.

The weather doesn't care;
even notice
Nor the birds, about their
little birds' ways
and the worms, about their
little worms' ways

Our need? Oh, greater
Greater and greater
A bud vase full of rose
the petals fall on the polished
mahogany. Pink, tinged with gold
Veined exactly like a human hand
Making sense after all, of
what makes no sense at all.


.