By Whose Nod

Since flowers seem to arise out of a deep sense of allegiance
To the act of being a flower, for better or worse;
And since the rich earth is founded upon the depth of its conviction
That beneath this surface appearance lies
The richness of earth; and since cattle are committed,
Since cows are little more than an existence
They're committed to, allow me to breathe a sigh
Of relief as the perfect token
And pledge of my own allegiance
To the being with which I sigh. Ah breathless mother

Of our sighs, it's good to feel you, you without whom
There would truly be no relief, no acts
Of devotion, no suffering, no
No. The pasture I'm looking into would have a terrible case
Of non-existence without you, and then where
Would the cows be, and by whose nod would the sheep
Guide themselves if you failed them, your poor but honest beasts
Whose meek existence is nothing less than an awkward truth
That becomes them, because you nod to the steps
Of the dance by which they prove that, for better or worse,

They are truly sheep. In the mild days of spring,
When the soft water basks in the warmth
Of your approval, then each thing that is
Feels abundantly the concourse of being
With itself, and the shy trees leap into their arms.
Therefore, since you alone do not exist, since you alone are truly alive
Only by analogy, and since I would have nothing left
Without you, in my logic, to make my plodding
Heart leap, be the dance you do in me, as living proof
Of your concurrence, and with the breath I hereby lend you, breathe

A deep analogous sigh.

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