I should see in rain the call to home,
In you such things come heavy and so light,
Oh stage of all my thought and vacancy,
I am wistful and at times so sate.

Who should open up the skies of late,
And fill the stores with all such tears of care,
I am unworthy of time yet so,
Who could triumph over such a love.

Making friends not war,
Though samely on a battlefield,
So argued in a series of rebuffs,
Round cruelly dreamt up traps,
Dictated plainly in expanded thought,
Discursive hills and valleys for the board,
Until the silence reigns in rest,
Before it's shattered at a twice held awe,
One learned, the other flatly fresh.

POEM
Omitts
Explanations
Munificent