Horses at Midnight Without a Moon
by Jack Gilbert
Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.
Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.
But there's music in us. Hope is pushed down
but the angel flies up again taking us with her.
The summer mornings begin inch by inch
while we sleep, and walk with us later
as long-legged beauty through
the dirty streets. It is no surprise
that danger and suffering surround us.
What astonishes is the singing.
Here's the rest.
Here's the last time I shared it, in 2012.
by Ruth, from thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
When they were in college
He told her that emotions
Are like unruly children,
Running wild in the playground.
He became a psychologist
And helped people with their emotions.
She had lots of children, by birth and adoption.
Nobody knew better than she did about corralling children.
They didn’t talk any more but she often thought about what he’d said.
She found out on Christmas Day.
She cried while she made dinner for her husband and children.
The emotions and the children mingled freely in the kitchen,
As she thought about the years
And how life is harder than you think it’s going to be.
And the children.
The children you try to guide and teach
And yes, sometimes control,
Sometimes they peacefully gather around
And play ring around the Rosie
But other times they huddle timidly in the corner
Or run amok
And get into fights.
Sometimes there are tears in the gravy.