MELANCHOLIC   MEDITATION

Sitting on the mudguard of a trailer

Near White Owl Barn,  I muse,  revolve my thought,

Kaleidoscope my impressions over

And over,  try to find a pattern that

Will hold and satisfy my lack.  I fail,

For every permutation looks unkind,

A mere geometry of forms,  and all

Unpleasing to the inward eye:  no fond

Things here,  but tumbling probabilities

All having spiky aspects;  do they point

To multitudinous difficulties

Through weary days chock-full of need and want?

Stanley  MM II

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