appeased
by the flutters of melody
coming from the
parks and gardens—
by those peeling-
open faces
of the peonies,
the savvy darts of spiderwort
foxglove, lily of the valley,
by the broad flat open
palms of red hibiscus
rippling in the spree
of late May light
and breeze—
are we not so
completely relieved
completely relieved
and reassured
by all of these
that we've
utterly forgotten
why it is we need
such a repeated
and urgent
and urgent
reassurance?
