*to Weöres Sandor and Samuel Clemens
every silent plant in the garden knows
two sorts of wishes make up the world:
one was conceived in heaven, the other in hell
the earth buttoned its lip, too humble to tell
with regard to intent, millionaires are all
but about prayers, most of us ignorant children
undiscerning of what come may
we say our prayers anyway
every silent plant in the garden knows
two sorts of wishes make up the world
each sheds tears as morning arrives
when we let go of our innocence