“It could be worse.”

That’s not always true,
but it’s true
when the doctor says
it’s not a tumor,
you won’t go blind,
it’s something she can fix.

You think
of things you’ve seen,
glad that even if
you never see them again
that is your choice
and not, at least for now, your fate.

Tonight, you walk
the aging dog
down your narrow street,
notice how
the corner lights blur
in the heavy air,

in Tuscany
there are single acres
that leave you breathless,
while over a hill
at the end of the block

a full moon like a lantern
rises between the pines.