To What the World Might Mean

Gary H. Howard

Forget why you thought

The rain might offer

An answer

Or why there were

Moving moments of

Depression flailing

Among dead leaves

We counted them

Transitory joys

Planted piecemeal

Among the branches

And glimpsed intrepid gray squirrels

Wearing thick dark fur

Each bearing a universe

On its back

Maneuver safely around deep pools

Around any possible impediments

To what the world might mean