‘Proverbial’

The birds are up early; it’s rush hour on the lawn,

and cars fly over the bridges and into the city

in spite of the burnings. I know the true worth

of the sayings my grandmother served up with the lasagna.

My grandmother saw the trees, as did my mother. Father

was alone in the forest. Meanwhile, we children

were raised by wolves; two wrongs

don’t make a right are the directions to my house.

But even the blind chicken finds

the kernel of corn, even the unhatched eggs

wobble in their basket and promise

to one day explode into swans,

however modest or far away.