In The Wombs Of The Daylight Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In the wombs of the daylight we get our summers:
And in the spring times,
The airplanes touch down—
And when they do, they get wet—
They also become a catastrophe,
The same way that your eyes
Never fell upon me—
Woman across the aisle from me—
And this is some kind of wedding,
Because there is cake
And baby's breath—
And when the daylight awakens there will be
Trips to other planets on quests for water,
And the school buses will return for the
Butterflies—
And there will be much noise and jubilation
But not much else,
Even if there are survivors.