You don't want the children to know how afraid / you are. You want to be sure their hold on life / is steady, sturdy. Were mothers and fathers / always this anxious, holding the ringing / receiver close to the ear: / 'Why don't they answer where could they be?

Late February, and the air's so balmy snowdrops and crocuses might be fooled into early blooming. Then, the inevitable blizzard will come, blighting our harbingers of spring, and the numbed yards will go back undercover. In Florida, it's strawberry season- shortcake, waffles, berries and cream will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus.

There's a conspiracy / to protect the young, so they'll be fearless, / it's why you travel - it's a way of trying / to let go, of lying. You don't sit / in a stiff chair and worry, you keep moving. / Postcards from the Alamo, the Alhambra. / ... / You, fainting at the Buddhist caves. / Climbing with thousands on the Great Wall, / ... / Having the time of your life, blistered and smiling. / The acid of your fear could eat the world.

You don't want the children to know how afraid / you are. You want to be sure their hold on life / is steady, sturdy. Were mothers and fathers / always this anxious, holding the ringing / receiver close to the ear: / 'Why don't they answer where could they be?