(for Cate Harmon)
The birthday of sophisticated Cate?
My greetings I must polish smooth, not bright—
For crudity’s what Cate’s disposed to hate,
And Cate knows that my own restricted light
Does not reflect much sunshine. Get it right,
I tell myself, and dark won’t much offend:
Depths, if profound, reveal a sense of height;
With beasts it is a man’s part to contend.
So, Cate, let me admit, as I descend,
That, when I feigned perfection, I was sure
You saw my flaws, of which I know no end,
And excused more than most folks could endure.
What darkness does, indulgence dares outweigh.
Thinking of you just brightens up my day.
24 November 2013