THE EGG AND THE STONE
"Oh eggs, never fight with stones!" Chinese proverb
Wary and vulnerable
Eggs walk on eggshells.
Stones crowd the sidewalk -
Eggs slink by invisibly
Wishing they were stones.
Stones and eggs once friends.
When friends fall out, eggs notice,
It's not stones that break.
When eggs tell stories
They tell of the giant egg
Who will avenge them.
"To improve our characters
Heaven sends us stones."
You don't drop us out of windows
And we won't splatter.
Seeking a way out,
Eggs make rules for stones to live;
Now - teach stones to read.
Eggs resolve: We're soft -
To stop stones from killing us
We must become stones.
The hat looks proper – perhaps a bit jaunty
With its brim curled slightly, but unbattered
The white-haired man beneath it, the artist Cezanne,
Seems drunk, though cheerful, leaning in a doorway,
Emerging from a shadowed house into the light
Of a dazzling Provencal morning.
Photos can lie; perhaps he is not drunk at all --
Still, he has donned the clothes of a larger man;
His cuffs spill over his shoes; the bottom of his vest
Is unbuttoned. The chair he holds was stolen
From a dream Van Gogh once had;
All wobbled lines and strange proportions.
So small an old man in such large clothes
Might be blown for miles. I believe Cezanne,
Knowing this, grasps the Dutchman’s chair
So he can sit when the winds are done with him.