From Their Long Darkness Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Overused, but vibrant and alone,
I wonder if you make love while lying in
Bed with your daughter,
As I come across all the words I will never
Own,
As I am just going up the familiar paths overused
On the indescribably beautiful mountain:
You remind me, Alma, of my mother, if she were
Of another country,
And another time; and I know that my word counts
Have entirely exhausted you,
And my knights have woebegone into your more
Simpler world,
And these are things that by conclusion you just
Can’t love,
Or no one else for their pitiful sake: while you
Remain over me an elephant of warms, that the airplanes
Cloud:
They cluster like the memories of a summer around
Breathless wildflowers,
And I think of you while the desirous bears slumber,
Waiting until their new seasons come so
That they come stumble out from their long darkness
And kiss you as if you were their own.