How shall we fare
Well or ill
Or languishing with poetry and headaches
On Elizabeth Barrett’s settee
How shall we move
Ahead or back
Or locked in a tree
Lured by Niviane’s song
How shall we write
Poetry or prose
Or languages unborn
Sung by Tolkien’s peoples
How shall we live
Steadily or anxiously
Or laughing at fate
With lying legendary Malraux
Where is the sweetness in this sour parting?

These questions and more
I am left with
Hungering
Even while satisfied
Mourning April’s passing
Though eager for May’s borning

Oh, wait, there is the sweetness
I found it in the poems.