The shivering fit,
the cracked lips,
the shouting mind—
warm hands and a blanket, a moist swab, quiet words.
Such simple human remedies for what can’t be cured.
And really, will you be the one
who chooses not to provide them?
You will be the evening deer
that declines to browse, the blade of grass
that refuses to bow down before a storm,
the cloud that insists on sailing into the wind?
In obedience to what principle or whimwill you take your stand outside nature?