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| Birch leaves opening in rain |
The world will kill us,
Hemingway wrote,
Plain words for what we tactfully ignore,
protecting each other's sanity.
The trick, my mother said,
after her third husband died,
Is to live without regret,
and then the world killed her, as well.
But death can't be the only truth,
should the kind find someone kind,
Someone present, caring, joyful,
whose touch thrills,
And if ever until then,
kudos to the brave who venture out,
And kudos to the strong
who don't look back.
