Some day I'll have to be
braver than this. I'll have to learn
to work even harder.
Some day, it'll
fall on me
to found the new religion—
the one in which
I, in my
solemn maturity, permit things
to matter
as means
and not simply as
ends in themselves—
to admit
Sunday service is the reason
one slim brittle
widow keeps enduring
the weekly twisting of her hair
into such ruthless and
impeccable flowers.
