walking into a second hand book store and finding a book of poetry by Stephen Dunn, Local Visitations.
… Most of us pay now
for what we do and have done, or slide
like the poor and the helpless toward
the slammed gavel of a fate. That's enough, I say
out loud to no one in any world. Yet here
and there, though mostly here, even fate is reversible
with struggle or luck. More than once I've walked
under the sun and beneath the luminous moo
not knowing what or whom to thank.