The Weather in Space
Is God being or pure force? The wind
Or what commands it? When our lives slow
And we can hold all we love, it sprawls
In our laps like a gangly doll. When the storm
Kicks up and nothing is ours, we go chasing
After all we’re certain to lose, so alive –
Faces radiant with panic.
- Tracy K. Smith, from Life on Mars: Poems
