The Drooping Sky Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Orchard imprints in your kitchen- as sunlight
Through the glasses,
And against the wishing wells of gold fish:
And you don’t have to worry:
You are young, and your husband is young and
Coming home to you-
So you don’t have to run away across the canal:
The other world is just for show-
You don’t have to belong to it, and I am your son:
Abandon me if you want to
In the preschools of graveyards- leave me there
Underneath the slash pine and the egrets
Who ornament the drooping sky as the traffics
Rush by forever- though they never have
To be gone for very long: and, rest assured,
They will all be soon coming home to you, as you lie
In wait for them,
As the tadpoles change and the cicadas molt,
And the dragon flies whisper into the rattlesnake's
Mouth- as they all come home into you.