by Mary Oliver
But, where are the words?
Not in my pocket.
Not in the refrigerator.
Not in my savings account.
So, I sit, harassed, with my notebook.
It's a joke, really, and not a good one.
For fun I try a few commands myself.
I say to the rain, stop raining.
I say to the sun, that isn't anywhere nearby,
Come back, and come fast.
Nothing happens.
So this is all I can give you.
not being the maker of what I do,
but only the one that holds the pencil.
Abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
Make of it what you will.