A river of sky above the black woods,
I want it to mean something. I want it
To be an omen, a portent, a charm
That lifts me out of this malaise,
As lovely as it is with its grass and its birdsong
And its absence of connivers desperate for legacy,
Just me and the dog, lying on freshly-mowed yard,
Watching the drifting river of sky and waiting,
Believing in each other, me thinking perhaps
A Powerball ticket is not so foolish maybe,
I mean by comparison, it's only another test
Of irrational optimism, like wagging, like
Marriage. Yet sometimes
I still expect kindness.
