sometimes a hat
jaunty and confident
when i feel like that
sometimes a ladle
pouring goodness
out onto our table
sometimes a question mark
compounding my doubt
written in stars
up there in the dark
sometimes a weapon
as to strike with a pan
as if holding it out
in defense of a man
one morphs to the other
as the weeks go by
and the stars re-align
i look for a sign
Brooks Bradbury 