Wow!: I hope your health is improvin, and I added you to my prayer list. As for the saying, I'm sure I picked up in college or a boook. I don't think it's original, BUT, you made my day by sharing the effect it had. Praying for You & always write, even if. I one ever sees it.
My thanks to you Starward;: My thanks to you Starward; that image of sweater in contrast with a seasonal allusion was hoped to portray how love can sometimes be. And yes, that title was inspired by Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, which I was hopeful would be another contrast for texture in its reading.
In the final stanza, the: In the final stanza, the first two lines are among the most poignant I have ever read, in half a century of reading Poetry. Your lines are every bit as excellent as anything Wallace Stevens ever wrote in a similar mood.
Your title also made me think of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nacthmusik.
We've lost that sense of humor that helps guide us through : ..the struggle. And that innocence? I believe it's been left outside the pulsing wires of our most modern existance. Only that, inside it's us that are the neglected dogs being rained on.
I agree totally. It reminds..: I agree totally. It reminds me of a prayer my friend used to say at night when he was a kid..
Now I lay me down to sleep
These hunger pangs are running deep
If you see me, please don't wake
Unless you're giving me burgers and a shake
Where has the innocence of childhood gone?
I like the terrifying wisdom: I like the terrifying wisdom in this poem. I also applaud the repetition in the last three lines---it reminds me (and I cannot explain why) of the sound of the celesta at the conclusion of the third movement of Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony. Poetry approaching music was an aspect that the great Poet, T. S. Eliot sought, and in this poem you have achieved that.
I hope I am not intruding by: I hope I am not intruding by posting a second comment on this poem. After respond to your reply on my earlier comment, I read the poem again, and again, and I may very well be reading it even more today. I love its brevity; I love the repetition of the word "stone," like a chime, and I love the "cozy" feeling in the last five lines. The insight that being together (I think of lovers holding each other) is, in itself, a kind of shelter that we all long for adds a surge of power to this poem, and makes its brevity a kind of artistic deception (I mean this as a compliment not a negative criticism)---because the power that is released from that brevity, like the power released from an atom in during fusion in a star's core, is HUGE. I am not a scholar, but if I were teaching a course on Poetry, or even talking to one inidividual about what Poetry is, I would use this Poem as one of my examples. You should be very, very . . . and again I say, VERY . . . proud of this magnificent literary accomplishment. Please make certain that you have a back-up copy, even multiple back-up copies, on file.
Wow! Your statement: Wow! Your statement that Poetry is language distilled is one of the best, and most succinct, definitions of Poetry that I have ever read . . . and I say that with the credibility of having read Poetry for fifty years as of last month. I am going to take a screenshot of those words to preserve it in the permanent files on my laptop, because that definition is so classic. I wish it could be added to every textbook on Poetry and taught to every high school student being exposed to Poetry for the first time. If I had known those words when I first entertained, in myself, the ambition to write Poetry (which I first felt in the Autumn of 1975), my preparatory work and study of the forms of Poetry would have been much easier and better organized. You have really "struck gold" in coining that phrase; and though the last couple of days have been difficult, medically, for me, you have lightened my burdens and brought some sparkle to my Friday with these words. Thank you, very much, for one of the most important and impactful replies I have ever received.