Who Knows What Happens Next

ALL I CAN TELL YOU

I don't know how this all turns out,
and neither do you,
but I have to confess it doesn't look good.
I wish we were headed for a picnic, for a waltz in the park. I wish we were not ruled by broken men who want to damage everything that they cannot possess.
I wish
I could tell you what we do now. The street is littered with the petals of cherries that bloomed before the big wind came. Tonight there will be frost, and tender buds will burn. But still, the woods are unfolding into green, and just outside my door some frog is bellowing for all he's worth.
Who knows what happens next?
All I can tell you is that the fields are ablaze with dandelions
who have never known
the meaning of defeat.

Lynn Ungar