Something needn't be large to be good.
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Icebergs behoove the soul (both being self-made from elements least visible) to see themselves: fleshed, fair, erected, indivisible.
Insomnia" perhaps she's a daytime sleeper.
Someone loves us all.
Time to plant tears, says the almanac. The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove and the child draws another inscrutable house.