What but
(since the love is in the language)
call it hope
that helps a little
and hope to imitate your inlands of example
by praising the possible;
what then but praise the ripening
cure of language which plays
among questions and answers
mediating even love and grief,
what but
as the window the morning
as the foot the tilt of the ground
as the river the lights of its city
praise how the actions of language or honey
seem in their transport to express,
from the collected heat and sweetness
of hearing and speaking,
something
smaller and more human than belief,
some reason to read these thick omens
as good and those outlands as relief.