The Weak

--Greg Kuzma

So much that is weak has survived

and lives out its long wondrous days

with only the least of annoyance.

The grim and holy, the loud and reckless,

pass them, making their great surface

disruptions. So much that is weak and

slight has bloomed beneath the dark brow

of the storm. Rage, rage, or whisper,

everything fades. The tall trees of the

yard, the small dry walnut shells.