Today I am weary,
though I have food and shelter
and a Magic Number bed,
and love is around me.
I am helpless against all the things
beyond my changing:
the ruthless anonymity of evil,
the bluster of the self-absorbed,
the nearness of pain and death.
I wish for the power
to change it all,
and lament my smallness.
Then I walk outside
on this cold March morning
and find myrtle blossoms--
tiny, purple, hopeful--
pushing winter away.
--Timothy Haut, March 2, 2016
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