Such Tiny And Determined Things Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I’ve been open for so long, that I am
Mapped by the elements, this furrowed brow.
I have noticed verifiable patterns when the ants parade,
Or in the steps they take to go underground once
The rain descends, as it does, especially
In the middle of the year; and above me
There are caves a blind man explores,
And above that the infrequent airplanes on
Certain routes, and then the nimbus, usually like
Sparse cauliflower flowering on blue table; and below me
Is the town, the whore house, and the gold mine;
And there are twins, one good and one evil,
A ferrier who is eventually drunk, but does good work;
And a woman who is so beautiful they use her to light
The streets, and she does steady business when the bowed
Panners put down their tin saucers and look into her eyes;
She keeps the karats of gold tucked in her bosom;
Even now I can see her radiance, and its noon time,
And my cousin weeps because she is now with child,
But her husband has left on the train for Sacramento,
And I can do nothing about it, because I am out here,
Keeping for buzzards, ready to sound the alarm;
And yet the woman glows from such resilience I don’t
Know where it comes from, and she is singing, and
Glory be to her, the hymns of children, and my cousin is singing along beside,
When soon her baby shall be out and tugging her;
Then there will be a new name in town, I can see down towards,
And I am so grateful that I would like to descend, and
Become a part of that blossoming atmosphere, but what am I to do,
For to leave this place who put them at a vulnerability
That I should remain and wait out in vigilance,
And yet my burden seems shared, and even when I look away,
This Madame burns like the sun in my vision; so at night,
As I watch the ants proceed, the light she gives swaths them,
Like kerosene burning up on a stage, and they move in such
Opulence, such tiny and determined things.