Let them be cynical,
I have my own faith still
to question and deny.
The proud and stiff of neck,
the small who grub and peck,
both look too low or high,
while I but seek to know
the feel of things that grow
and, by my living, why.
INSOMNIA IN THE CITY
Three a.m. along the river
between the footfall and the snow,
watching the stars leap out and quiver
against the desolate scene below,
the flare of match one's beacon fire,
one's inner tower of warmth and cheer,
to keep night safe from its desire
and blow away the smoke of fear.
WHEN YESTERDAY COMES
I have not always been blind.
My eyes opened to the sun
like any child's, and I ran
and played in my waking hours
like schoolboys everywhere. Night
was my sleep and the dark powers
I knew from childhood on.
I do not speak of the mind's;
the others came later, when
natural fears gave way to man's
and I saw darker things still,
things beyond the wildest flight
of a boy's fancies. Who will
deny there are worse dragons?