The Way Things Are

The sea is wet (I mean—at least, it isn’t very dry),
and rather watery compared, I think, to, say, the sky.

The sky itself is wide and blue—as blue as blue can be.
However, I don’t think I’d say it’s bluer than the sea.

But bluer sea or sky (which one, I do not really know),
they both out-blue the land: it’s green with grass, or white with snow.

The grass is very grassy, and the snow is very cold.
It’s true, without a doubt, that earth is earthy, big, and old.

These things in almost every way are just the way they are.
And if they aren’t—well, you must admit they aren’t far.

In fact, if snow were grassy, or the oceans soft and dry,
I doubt that we would call the earth the earth, the sky, the sky.

A thing can only be itself if it is just the same
as everything that makes it it (except maybe its name),
and if it isn’t? . . . Well, it only has itself to blame.

Daniel Galef

If you have any comments on this poem,  Daniel Galef   would be pleased to hear from you.