Chaos

chaos is its own

Satisfaction for every child whose rival is disorder

there is One who cannot

Bear The Perfect Lines

And blinding symmetry of Fresh snow

and they must scrape a

stick through the mounds or relieve themselves (a dog but not perfect) to PROVE THEIR EXIS tence.

Nature

Who made Us

and the World

And The snow

Made a child to replicate her skill with patterns

~

Made a child to peel at those patterns like bark on a Tree

and reveal

Chaos is its own—

heronemistake

Oops!

—a child

[Sa-tis-facti-on}