SELF-EVIDENT
Some birds there are that do not like a cage,
that want the whole world free to come and go
as seasons do, despite drought, heat or snow;
that feel their liberty a heritage
no bars can shut in or no masters assuage
with pretty bribes and warning threats of foe;
the wilder ways of chance they choose to know
with wings against the wind as surest gauge.
Eagle, crow, skylark, jay—no matter what
the size of beak, how sharp the claw or small—
each finds his own nest feathered best for him
alone, on tree, rock, shore or grassy plot;
there he can hear his own answered call,
aware of baits that snare, of shears that trim!
THE SACRAMENT
All the breadlong day she moved about the house
and nibbled at its crust, until she saw Carl
walking griefwards with his shadow to the barn,
whereless in his step and heedless of the cows,
and she wondered how he could be so thoughtbound.
What sad, whyful thing could make a man so lost
within his world that he had no fisthold on
it to demand a moreness for his account?
She turned from that window to the hopeside one
where she had reseeded a world of her own,
a garden like the days of her truthhood—green,
and fenced in its innocence, flowering trust,
where flowers became their dreams when they woke up.
Reminded by the sky hanging out the moon,
she hung hers in the doorway, then lit the room
and hurried to her oven's tomorrow crumbs.
He came in quietly and guilt-rubbed his face,
seeing Jen's waiting at the table. "Ev'ning,"
he said and heard her reply creak underneath
as he woodenly walked to the sink and draped
a towel around his neck, unwishing the blame.
If soap and water clean could make a man feel
holy, what use would the devil's mirror be?
He felt no such deception while she said grace.