Who wrote a letter to my daughter
When she was born, one tiny otter
Clutching life as she floated. Sandhi,
From the Sanskrit, "placing together."
That's the trick I'm attempting tonight.
Randy prefers poems that make sense. Right
You are. I prefer stormy weather,
In principle, but I love the sun
On my human face like commonsense
Fixed in place, like a rhyme. No nonsense,
No rain, no fear, no sheer winds to stun
My shivering as I leave the lake.
That's how I think of your love of poems
Kind enough to sit still. The mind roams.
Only one thing's forever at stake:
Do you prefer your mysteries solved?
Or do you prefer their mystery?
Tonight's stars on the dark lake resolve
As blurred waves. All light is history.
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