Look: I am nothing. I do not even have ashes to rub into my eyes.

In a pine tree,/ A few yards from my window sill,/ A brilliant blue jay is springing up and down, up and/ down./ On a branch./ I laugh, as I see him abandon himself/ To entire delight, for he knows as well as I do/ That the branch will not break.

It goes without saying that a fine short poem can have the resonance and depth of an entire novel.

Poetry can keep life itself alive. You can endure almost anything as long as you can sing about it.

I close my eyes, and think of water.

Most of the pollution in the water already is dead animal and plant matter and building debris, ... good stagnant nursery for mosquitoes.

Practice good personal hygiene. Wash your hands before you eat. Be aware of good clean water and food sources.