(Thanksgiving Day 2001)
What ancient probabilities lurk within?
Did a mammoth kill her?
Or was it that other species of homo?
Can’t be too sure; or maybe we can be all too sure.
Let’s kill them!
And yet, what ancient joys lie sleeping within!
The freedom of the shooting stars.
The music of the wind in the trees.
The stillness of the moon on a lake.
The miracle of snow, that first winter in the north.
Did we come to our senses in these moments?