The stoic things


Let me remember the stoic things,
the stable, stolid, standing things. The rocks
slowly cracked by ice and roots,
the lightninged pine, the holed hemlock,
the bass awaiting a winter blocked by ice.
Remember too the daily sun, the running
stream, the deer-stripped maple leafing again.

And here I sit, pondering,
my heavy head, my anxious heart, my soft bottom
by granite.