all that we know is measured in degrees
of silence or of truth that we declare
not loudly but most firmly into air
that has been purified by these dark trees
standing impassive in the midday breeze
while we afflicted by most reasoned fear
are not so hopeful that we’ll choose to dare
go through the woods to face the heat or freeze
no options are so good are purest chance
but all our wishes end up just as vain
as when we started so we must endure
let other figures enter in the dance
hope for the sun but buck up under rain
and face each ill uncertain of the cure