With Mute Efficiency Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Following the sparks of egrets, my soul has sparklers
That burn across the glades of
Kindergarten: at first they seem to make a sound,
But then the prospect goes away
As if led off by kidnappers who only supposed for
A little while they were in love;
But the sunlight falls, metamorphosing the rain and
Ice cream,
The little plates underneath the trees catching both
But spilling down to the homogenized sea,
They offer this to nobody- and the words speak for
Themselves
With mute efficiency and this is what they say.