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Louise Bogan - Zone
Work rating: Low

We have struck the regions wherein we are keel or reef. 
The wind breaks over us, 
And against high sharp angles almost splits into words, 
And these are of fear or grief. 

Like a ship, we have struck expected latitudes 
Of the universe, in March. 
Through one short segment’s arch 
Of the zodiac’s round 
We pass, 
Thinking: Now we hear 
What we heard last year, 
And bear the wind’s rude touch 
And its ugly sound 
Equally with so much 
We have learned how to bear.
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