I bow to all things fragile

to the end of the wild,

to lark-song past remembering,

to all those

who howl at the moon,

in pain or ecstasy.

I bow to the daffodil

bending under

unexpected snow.

I bow to Emily's

flighty, feathered wing,

to all hope that defeats

rage and evil,

and that confirms

our universal need

for love.