The Optimism Principle

The gods are no more unwilling
to listen than usual, babies are still
pulled from the rubble, sometimes,
and the Council will never collect
old mattresses, they recline in lay-bys
like nudes, as normal. My gate-latch
only grinds into the strike if forced,
and I forget to check lottery tickets,
some of which may win us a tenner,
but March sun still draws strength
from white daffodils, and rabbits eat
my lettuces in summers now, as ever,
and home remains a flicker of a grin,
the kitchen light on, a radio playing.