The Passions Are The Same In Every

When Love Ends, We Cry Out Against Destiny. When Friendship Ends, We Cry Out Against Our Friend.

As Children, Our Protests Availed Little. As Adults, The Same.

In The Great Cities, Winter Glitters With Art And Feasting. But Poetry, The Country Cousin, Sees Only The Dearth Of The Fields.

I Like What I Do For A Living. I Also Like Not Doing It--perhaps Even More.

Wisdom Cannot Prevent A Fall, But May Cushion It.