…I looked to the trees for an answer, and the flower said, under its petals in the moon-light it has gone to the deep, dark earth.

But here is where I sink, under the clear blue and gold ready and locked in a breath, for the dry comb of a bee, for the fishing line hanging, one single thread.

I will hang on beneath; it is summer. So let the stars scatter above us like summer flowers before the rain.

Let the winds read their papers; let the bees buzz. Let the child laugh in his child’s freedom, knowing he is the world.

• Muriel Rukeyser