Page 388
By Jack Joseph Smith
There is nothing explicide to know
between two and six
Slowly it will not be the cross
that will cross them
Better in journey
The grace of a twig
Up on a hightlimb
Knowledge and courage complete
as instinct raw and guided yet alone
The wind eyes im stretch
as sapling bark
Never does the infant know less
That the adult knows im death
Would be that a script
The middle of life
never lasting through the truth
A thought about children
Knowing the beginning
and the ending
don't re- care