Gently Unexpressed Poem by Robert Ronnow

Spring. Same plants, same order.
Monday morning, open for business.
Tractor-trailers, day care centers.
Every leaf that's coming out is out.

To tonight's town meeting I will go unprepared and
      foolish.
It's delicious, the unimportance of my feelings.
Even our particular war is small.
Europe had one last a century.

Hubble photos of events 13 billion years ago
Do not put me in mind of the species' insignificance.
Just the opposite having witnessed the universe's birth.
But birth from what preceding state? God again rears his
      hoary head.

Nelson Riddle's arrangement for Frank Sinatra's
I've Got You Under My Skin. When the trombone
Breaks away from the orchestra
Like an elephant in love.

They say one must let go and will let go,
That God will decide what tragedy you need.
Not every seed becomes a flower,
Not every branch breaks out like Edward Taylor's.

While the ancient Romans wrote of love
The ancient Britons wrote of war.
The Romans should have been perfecting their republic.
No god could do that work for them.

The November moth's the fall cankerworm- Alsophilia
      pometaria-
Slender-bodied, beige, beginning life as the well known
      inchworm.
In our war more children may have died than would have
      had Saddam not died of fear and awe.
We can never know because we're here.