June is forever and forever returning.
Howling headlines will not prevent it.
Statistics cannot deny that which will be.
my springtime heart I know that earth
will have its way. October, that old faker,
coloring its leaves in deceptive gaiety,
all the time meaning brittleness and brown
death, doesnít fool me. Decemberís
snowflakes and gossamer enticements, hiding
sludge and dirt under the wings of Christmas
angels, canít forever deceive. I know
what I know. There is something in the nature
things that is assuring, that tells me the people
emerging from their dark lives to front porches
and sunlight when the warm days come
know the secret the universe sometimes tries
conceal. Life forever rejuvenates
itself. Whatever else happens, life lives.
Islands: New and Selected Poems.