The noiseless wheels of my car rush with a crackling sound over dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling. - William Carlos Williams

At our age the imagination
across the sorry facts
lifts us
to make roses
stand before thorns.
Sure
love is cruel
and selfish
and totally obtuse — at least, blinded by the light,
young love is.
But we are older,
I to love
and you to be loved,
we have,
no matter how,
by our wills survived
to keep
the jeweled prize
always
at our finger tips.
We will it so
and so it is
past all accident.

It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.

The better work men do is always done under stress and at great personal cost.