The child doesn't want to be left out in the cold, dismissed. One wants to join the round of ordinary goodness & warmth. One wants to be part of the family of happy endings, the comedy in which everybody pretty much gracefully "muddles through" somehow... Tolstoy's opening sentence in Anna Karenina - "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." - ie. one wants to find oneself in the unwritten circle of the first group, the world of foolish-wise & bumbling grown children...

- old poem from Way Stations -

The wind for France
blusters and laughs.
Green hills, gathered
and chaste, gleam
over the humped sediment.

And bowmen will carry the day.
Silence an awkward garment
among the clear circles,
at the lighted feast
of modesty and honor.

Only, in the mild air,
to say goodby. Or there,
in grandmother's book,
Rapunzel, glancing down
from her strange tower.

Or stars over the sea.
Or tongues of fire.
A hearth-blaze. Fold
my hands, light the
four corners of the bed.

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