Four Years

Possibilities, endlessly entwining round a ball of clay

Molded, then rounded, then carved and twisted

Newly come from mother’s vigilant care

A lamb in the spring with stumbling steps

Stumbling toward a hope and dream

Praying not to fall

A Janus-faced road was the path from beginning to beginning

Left I there my mark and as a great torrent -

Started perhaps by a word- it grew

What has it yielded now?

Where is the lamb under the years?

It that prayed and rose?

In the papers marked by uniform Aes

In the mantels and burdens of the Premier

Under the seas of expectation

And over- or perhaps through- the mountains of gilded pedestals

You will find the ball of clay

Now thrown and fired

The lamb and the clay are no more

Stumbled steps have straightened

Purified and infused by the refining flame

Sea-buffeted, mountain-weary,

But strong the product stands

And prays not to fall