One never says exactly what one means.
One does not know what it is to mean, except
when finding the quotient of the sum of some
numbers divided by the number of them.
The mean of sparrow and swallow is marrow.
If one adds hope to the equation, it becomes
harrow. Still, one and one and one is still
a fallow addition. To swallow a sparrow
is my only hope. To watch some sweetspire
in a meadow, knowing my chances are narrow.
Appeared originally in Maine Magazine.