This morning, even the roses look morose,
More elegy than awe. And yet,
The sun holds up its end of the bargain, rays
Gliding the grass and the green thorns,
Midas with a clumsy touch, until
Everything we love grows stiff and cold.
Elton Glaser, from “Low and Delicious, in Here and Hereafter: Poems (University of Arkansas Press, 2005)