Cider

Small delights in the dark matter

         of perception

                  satisfy our hunger

         for belief.

Small delights keep us

         on the brink

                  of hope,

         substance of faith.

We spoon sugar into teacups

         of anxiety

                  mugs of trauma,

         the thereness of life.

We drink deeply, taste

         the single percent

                  of understanding,

         the juice the apple yields.