Nobody is as foolish as one who trusts.Only a fool could be so trusting.Nobody is as trusting as a fool.I'm nobody's fool.To trust someone is to believe thatThat person is a good person.That person would never hurt me.That person finds me interesting.Likes meLoves me.I trusted you.So when you did what you didI tried to come up with any other explanationThan what is, after a foolishly long time,Now so obvious.Once I was somebody's fool at least.
Noellen, I say and then stop because love is the silent saying and saying of a singlename.Instructions on how to say Noellen:Insert flap N into slot OFold E along edge L to line LTwist E halfwayConnect it to flap NHave a small child say itGive the child a balloon.
Once I saw a soldier jump upFrom behind a boulderAnd run zig-zagging towardA forest shooting bullets at him thatKicked up small plumes ofHot dust around his flying boots.And once I saw a womanStanding precariously betweenA sliding mound of soil andA gaping hole in the mown lawnIn high heels and black dressShoveling dirt into the hole,Her wet eyes unseeing.In the Bible it is writtenThere is a season for all things.There is a time to be strong
The Winters are so short --I'm hardly justifiedIn sending all the Birds away --And moving into Pod --Myself -- for scarcely settled --The Phoebes have begun --And then -- it's time to strike my Tent --And open House -- again --It's mostly, interruptions --My Summer -- is despoiled --Because there was a Winter -- once --And al the Cattle -- starved --And so there was a Deluge --And swept the World away --But Ararat's a Legend -- now --
How still, how happy! Those are wordsThat once would scarce agree together;I loved the plashing of the surge -The changing heaven the breezy weather,More than smooth seas and cloudless skiesAnd solemn, soothing, softened airsThat in the forest woke no sighsAnd from the green spray shook no tears.How still, how happy! now I feelWhere silence dwells is sweeter farThan laughing mirth's most joyous swellHowever pure its raptures are.Come, sit down on this sunny stone:'Tis wintry light o'er flowerless moors -But sit - for we are all aloneAnd clear expand heaven's breathless shores.
What will they do when I am gone? It is plainThat they will do without me as the rainCan do without the flowers and the grassThat profit by it and must perish without.I have but seen them in the loud street pass;And I was naught to them. I turned aboutTo see them disappearing carelessly.But what if I in them as they in meNourished what has great value and no price?Almost I thought that rain thirsts for a draughtWhich only in the blossom's chalice lies,Until that one turned back and lightly laughed.