He suspects that wholes are a matter of long and at times Seemingly endless waiting for the Host to open the door; an Overture to conclude so that we may at last hear an Expected symphony; an operation to be rhymed,
Sufficient recovery so that we may smile once again upon The patient; at the mailbox, vigil for the postman so that one May be apprised of the bill, near enough to the telephone For that important call; the last day of work so that run-on
Vacations may begin. I know of no one who awaits nothing Unless in fact he is either lost or distracted, or simply Cocooned within protracted dreams or worse, a panoply Sufficient to expectation of change, there is the running
Just before the door to what is surely in the next room. Glory the very least, nothing all that boring.